


New Horizons to Pursue

by eponinethejondrette



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: High School AU, Multi, mental illness tw, self harm tw, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 93,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1450888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponinethejondrette/pseuds/eponinethejondrette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Mis high school AU where Aladdin is being put on and drama ensues, new friends are made and lots of shit goes down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

The very second Cosette Tholomyes found out that her high school would be performing Aladdin, she knew that she had to be Jasmine. Not only did she feel an incredibly strong desire to play the role, but she knew that she could play the lead role better than anybody else in her high school. She had been taking voice lessons since she was eight years old and had been gifted with a heavenly, smooth toned voice since the time she was a tiny little girl singing the alphabet over and over until her father would rub his temples and tell her that her shrill little voice went right through his head. 

Her constantly disapproving father contributed to her need to be the star. Nothing she did ever seemed to impress him, her accomplishments only made him dismiss her and go on about how everybody at work absolutely loved the way he pitched an idea for an interrogation question or something else that completely bored his discouraged daughter. The teenager sometimes wished her father hadn't come back after he had walked out on her and her mother all those years ago, when Cosette was only a year or two old. Cosette never knew why he came back, as he never seemed to care for her mother Fantine as Fantine cared for him. 

It was at the dinner table that she lifted her head and announced quietly that she had plans to audition for the role in her senior year musical. 

"Euphrasie, if you'd like me to even have a chance at hearing whatever you're going on about, could you please speak up for God's sake?" Her father, Félix, spat, clearly already in a foul mood. Perhaps he had not gotten a favorable amount of applause at work that day. 

"I'm sorry, father. I was saying that m-my school will be putting on a musical and I was thinking that maybe I'd like to try out." 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, sweetheart." Her mother piped in as she placed a dish of chicken on the table before Cosette and her ever growing father. "I know you'll get a lead role. You always have had such a beautiful voice." 

"Thank you, mama. The tryouts are next week, and I guess I'll start practicing the audition song. It's A Whole New World." 

"Ah," Félix let out a short laugh, "I take it we will be listening to quite a lot of your singing in the upcoming week?" He grimaced slightly. 

"Cosette has a beautiful voice, darling." Fantine interjected softly, timidly pushing a lock of graying golden hair behind her ear. 

"Euphrasie is a fine singer, I suppose, but that doesn't mean her silly songs don't bother me." 

"I'm sorry they bother you, father, but I really do need to practice at home if I want to do well..." A lump grew in her throat as she felt her father's cold stare beating down on her. 

"Fucking Christ! What, are you going to cry now? You are such a damn baby, you know that? Self-advocate! Don't expect your mother to do everything for you!" His plump face grew red with anger as his fist slammed down on the table. Fantine, who hadn't yet had the chance to sit down, jumped back and let out a small involuntary yelp. 

"Félix, darling..." Fantine stepped forward tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. Now that he was upset, she knew it would be difficult to make him apologize to Cosette for making her feel badly. 

"I will not deal with this right now. I have paperwork to fill out." Félix pushed his chair out roughly and stomped upstairs loudly. 

"I'm sorry, Cosette." Fantine murmured, running a hand gently through Cosette's chestnut hair. 

By now, tears were streaming down Cosette's face and her bottom lip was trembling uncontrollably. "W-what did I do?"

"Shh, you did nothing, little angel. Your father just had a difficult day today and he's just a bit on edge. Come sit with me and we can talk, Cosette. I feel like we haven't gotten to have any of our little chats since you started school again." She spoke softly, patting her daughter's head once more before she cleared the untouched food and dishes. 

Fantine and Cosette sat for hours afterwards, Cosette lying against her mother as she braided her hair into a series of intricate braids and twists.

They talked about anything on their mind, the upcoming audition of course being too sensitive considering that it had just started an argument with Félix. Cosette went on about her wonderful math teacher Mr. Fauchelevent and how he was so kind and intelligent, which she could appreciate even though math was incredibly difficult for her. Fantine smiled distantly through the conversation, her insides becoming warm at her daughter's bright tone. Still, she knew a loud argument awaited her once she gathered the courage to head upstairs.

"Mama?" Cosette murmured after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Fantine's head snapped up. "Yes, dear?"

She wanted so badly to ask why her mother persevered through her dreary life with Félix, why she didn't turn the awful man away when he came back after walking away. But now wasn't the time, and she didn't want to upset her mother, who was clearly already distraught. 

"I-I'm tired. Goodnight." Cosette sputtered. 

"Goodnight, my sweet Cosette. Tomorrow will be kinder."

\----- 

Monday was far from Courfeyrac's favorite day. He was always bright and bubbly, but even his spirit was dampened when he was forced to wake up at six o'clock in the morning, usually after a weekend of staying up late with his friends. Of course, his mother always told him that going to bed early would be beneficial, but still he stayed up until the wee small hours of the morning playing call of duty. 

One thing that could brighten his dull morning was the presence of his dear friends, those who he considered to be the most important people in his young life. 

His dark-haired sidekick, Marius Pontmercy was in a particularly clumsy state that very Monday morning in late January, Courfeyrac's very least favorite time of the year. The way he saw it, January was a hell hole that must be endured to get on to February and Valentine's Day (his most favorite day of the year) and of course, February break. 

"Marius, where the hell is your backpack?" Courf inquired, his eyes narrowed at his friend's empty hands and missing backpack. 

"Darn it-" Marius murmured, running a hand anxiously through his mop of silky dark hair. 

"Dude, it's fine, though. You'll live without it." Courfeyrac noticed that Marius's breathing was becoming ragged, a sure sign that he was becoming truly anxious. He couldn't call home to have his backpack dropped off to school for him, and it was too late for him to try and bike back home to retrieve it. 

"No, I won't! That has my homework in it! I didn't bring my homework yesterday either..." His stomach began to twist as he paced nervously around the little tucked away corner of the tiny hallway that Courfeyrac and him occupied. 

Marius could not under any circumstances call home for the missing backpack- he was screwed. Surely, his cold grandfather would be absolutely furious if he found out what a flake Marius had been that morning. He felt so idiotic. How the hell does one forget their most important belonging?

"You can take my homework, dude. We've got all our classes different periods."

"You'd do that for me?" Marius's expression filled with sudden hope. He wouldn't have to be embarrassed or lectured or yelled at.

"This sounds cliché, but that's what friends are for."

\---

Teachers start calling home after three days of unexcused absences. Éponine Thénardier did not need to add truancy to her record, which was already rather lengthy for a sixteen year old girl- robbing a convenience store, countless traffic tickets (most of which were amassed while she didn't have a proper license), underaged drinking, driving under the influence and probably some more that she couldn't remember and therefore did not matter or count.

So, on a particular biting Monday morning in mid-January, the reluctant girl pulled herself out of bed. 

Not to her surprise, her parents were not present in the dingy, hole-in-the-wall apartment. They'd been on 'business' for a couple of weeks and she hadn't seen them since. She occasionally saw her siblings, but mostly she was on her own. Azelma stayed after school every day until they turned the lights off, desperately grasping for an excuse to escape the fuck hole that was her home life. Gavroche disappeared almost as frequently as her parents, and the little ones had been carted away to foster homes years ago.

Éponine hummed softly as she got ready, digging some old, crusty toothpaste out of the rusty medicine cabinet and brushing her teeth under the tap with her finger as a toothbrush, throwing a granola bar and a pack of cigarettes into her threadbare bag and jogging out the door moments before her ride pulled into the parking lot in his beat-up pick up truck.

The bus didn't come to her part of town and she wasn't allowed to drive anymore (that's not what stopped her from doing so, it was really her lack of a car) and so Montparnasse drove her to school. He showed up at the dank apartment complex daily. Most days, Éponine didn't bother to go to school. On those days, Mont would sit in the car impatiently and wait three minutes before he deemed it a ditch day. He did not take ditch days, as he was far too cautious about getting into trouble that way.

"You decided to show up today." He smirked lopsidedly, his dark hair gelled in place in a way that made Éponine grimace.

"Not by choice. Teachers start calling home after three days in a row." She sighed irritatedly, laying against the beat-up seat facing away from her chauffeur.

"Don't you wanna do anything with your life, 'Ponine?" He sighed, his usual booming tone becoming softer, his typical arrogant smirk becoming a slight frown.

"I wanna die young." She answered, her tone devoid of any emotion whatsoever. 

"Fuck, 'Ponine! Don't say shit like that." Montparnasse growled, swatting her blindly as he kept at least a bit of his attention on the road before him. 

"Whatever. D'you know where my parents are? I haven't seem 'em in weeks." 

"It's none of your business." He answered flatly, turning away from her completely. 

She was always a bit pissed off that her father seemed to have more trust in Montparnasse than he did in her when it came to matter like this. He'd always bring Montparnasse over and they would talk about 'serious business', but when Éponine would so much as enter the room, she'd be shooed away because she was 'an immature little hussy'. She knew she could do anything Montparnasse could do, and she could do it ten times better. 

"Yes, it is. Mont, tell me!" She whined, kicking her feet indignantly under the glove compartment. 

Montparnasse didn't speak for the remaining ten minutes of the car ride in fear that he would blurt something out to Éponine completely on accident. He didn't understand why Thénardier kept things from his daughter; Éponine was a clever girl who could do some great work if allowed to. But, if Thénardier found out that he told Éponine even a tiny piece of information, he would have his head. 

"Thanks for nothing, asshole." Éponine spat as she jumped out of the car sluggishly, planting a scowl on her face the second she felt the school environment surround her. 

\----  
Cosette took it upon herself to run copious charity events at her school. Her father always told her that she mustn't be a useless member of the community, she must work her ass off and get her name out there so that people would know that she was ready to live a successful life. Well, that's how he put it. To Cosette, it meant that she was able to interact with new people and make new friends, and most importantly she could help people. That always made her endlessly happy. Knowing that she improved someone's day - or even something more significant - put a smile on her face.

Only, she did not particularly enjoy how rude some people were when she was passing out flyers.

One girl in particular, a surly dark-haired girl who looked as if she would kill anyone who came within ten feet of her, terrified Cosette to no end. She was supposed to be in Cosette's math class, but she never showed up and on those rare days that she did show up, there was a seventy percent chanced she was drunk or reeked of cigarette smoke. Cosette shuddered at the thought of doing such things, but she had to get the word out and her father always told her that cowardice would bite her in the ass in the end. 

"Excuse me, um.." She stammered, her body positioned awkwardly so that she could give the intimidating girl the flyer without risking sudden death. 

"What?" Éponine snapped, irritated that her self-assigned 'free period' was being interrupted by the little charity girl, as she knew her. 

"I'm sorry if this is a bad time," Cosette's eyebrows were furrowed anxiously, warily eyeing the cigarette hanging out of Éponine's mouth, "but um, I'm supposed to give you this." She abruptly stuck the flyer in Éponine's face and immediately turned on her heel and started to run off. 

Éponine took one look at the brightly colored flyer and ripped it into as many pieces as she possibly could. Why the fuck would she donate to the local animal shelter? What money was she supposed to bring in? Her family could barely afford to live in the shitty apartment that they did and most of her clothes were stolen or from goodwill. 

Fuck that.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette continues to struggle at math, Courfeyrac prepares for his upcoming role, and Éponine & Montparnasse get themselves into some deep shit

Cosette let out a helpless help as her pencil broke once more. Perhaps she was pressing too hard on the page due to her extreme frustration regarding her math homework, which Mr. Fauchelevent claimed would only take fifteen minutes at the most. She was trying so hard, so very hard. She was staying after school, asking questions in class and taking hours on her tedious homework, but the only products were tears and frustration. Mr. Fauchelevent was a wonderful teacher, always looking over her shoulder to help her, but there was still no way for her to comprehend what he was telling her.

"Cosette, sweetheart?" Fantine made her way over to where Cosette was working so diligently and placed a motherly kiss on her cheek. "Don't fret too much over your math homework. Your father can help you when he gets home from work."

"No, mama, I can do it." Cosette insisted, becoming increasingly frustrated. She absolutely despised homework time with her father. It never helped with her homework either, it only ended in him screaming at her for not working hard enough then storming upstairs, Cosette crying, and Fantine comforting her and then being forced to go upstairs to deal with her brooding husband.

Fantine nodded in understanding, patting her daughter's head and walking back into the kitchen with a sigh. She looked distant, her blue eyes more of a dull gray, her beautiful golden hair slowly becoming sprinkled with gray. Cosette worried about her mother, as she seemed to have no limits as to what she would do for Félix. Cosette knew that her mother wanted to do more than sit in their big, suburban home and fold laundry, but her father insisted that this was the only career for Fantine, as she hadn't a degree in math or law. Women could be used as pawns in the world of business, he believed, but there was no other use for them. Félix wouldn't let any wife of his try to venture out into an impractical career. Wouldn't that make him look bad? He tried desperately to impress everyone he came across and he would not let his useless wife tarnish his image as the all around perfect man. 

After another frustrating hour, Cosette's math homework was finished with some help from her mother, who wasn't exactly a mathematician but at least tried her best to offer guidance. The help she gave was secretive, given in Cosette's room while Félix read in the family room. He was not to be involved, or else he might ask to see Cosette's latest report card on which she got straight A's excluding her D+ in math. 

"Maybe you could stay after more often with that teacher you like?" Fantine suggested, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I feel like he isn't teaching you well enough." 

"Mama, it's not his fault." Cosette pleaded, standing up with a start as she noticed that her mother was about to duck into the hallway to grab the landline. 

"Cosette, let me handle this. I will arrange a meeting and Mr. Fauchelevent and I can talk about your trouble in math, alright?" She started to dial the school's phone number decisively. 

"Fine, fine," Cosette sighed reluctantly, tucking her finished homework into her backpack. "Don't be rude about it, okay?" 

"Please, Cosette. I'm never rude- oh hello! Yes, my name is Fantine Tholomyes, my daughter is Euphrasie Tholomyes. Yes, twelfth grade. I was wondering if I could arrange to meet with her math teacher, Mr. Fauchelevent?" She paused, giving Cosette a big thumbs up and a bright smile. "Wonderful! I'll be in tomorrow afternoon. Thank you!" 

"Please don't be embarrassing, mama." Cosette groaned. 

"If my loving you is embarrassing then I'll surely become hateful and mean towards you." Fantine teased, laughing softly. 

"So, you'll treat me like father does?" Cosette mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. 

Fantine's cheerful demeanor disappeared. "Don't you dare say things like that about your father! He loves you very much." Her bottom lip trembled unsteadily in a way that made Cosette both uneasy and extremely guilty. 

Still, she felt tears brimming in her own large blue eyes as she remembered all the horrible things her father had said to her and her mother as well. 

"No, he doesn't! He just wants to show all his stuffy friends that he's got a perfect little family with a cute blonde wife and a daughter who doesn't speak out of turn and.. and when we're at home all he does is yell at me and tell me that I'm not good enough!" By now, Cosette was blubbering uncontrollably as her mother watched in horror. "He doesn't love you either, mama! I hate him!"

She always put up with Félix's disrespectful behavior because she was terrified at the idea of him walking out on her again. The first time, she had been absolutely petrified about raising Cosette by herself. She felt that Félix's riches and material belongings made her a woman of culture, someone who was considered by others to be majestic, to be beautiful. At that time, Félix was a handsome man as well, but he had not aged well. Still, she knew it would not be healthy for Cosette if she left on account of that. She felt that she owed it to Félix to continue to be his slave of a wife since she had been so stupid back when all she wanted was to feel beautiful and wanted. 

 

She had convinced herself that she still loved him. "You don't hate him! Never say that again! He's done so much for you, so much for us. How can you be so ungrateful?" Fantine snapped, her voice a hiss so as not to let Félix hear from downstairs. The comment about her husband not loving her hit Fantine like a bullet. 

Cosette could not believe that her mother would defend her husband over her daughter. "Shut up, shut up!" She screeched, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red as more tears slipped down.

Fantine couldn't stand to watch her baby cry anymore. She turned on her heel and slipped out of Cosette's bedroom, crying softly so that Cosette would just barely hear the muffled sobs.

At least Félix didn't hear. True hell would have broken loose.

\----

Courfeyrac had been the lead in every single play since his first year at high school- something that no other student had ever been well-loved and talented enough to do. Typically, ninth and tenth graders would only be awarded roles in the ensemble or very, very, very minor roles. Seniors and juniors were always given high preference, but not in Courfeyrac's case. Once his sunny smile charmed the drama director, an artsy young teacher who asked the students to call her by her first name Musichetta, he had all the lead roles just about secured for the rest of his high school career.

In ninth grade, he was Danny in the school's production of Grease. The next year, he was awarded the role of the cat in a hat in Seussical, and then in junior year he took on the part of Billy Flynn in Chicago. He knew he had the role of Aladdin in the bag once he found out that they were putting on the show that year- much to his delight, as he had always loved Aladdin.

He could distinctly remember jumping on the couch energetically while belting "One Jump Ahead" as a little child until his father told him that he wasn't allowed to jump on the couch. He knew that he had the star power to bring something wonderful to the beloved role, as he was positive that he would be cast in the eponymous role.

His best friend Marius, on the other hand, was never cast in large roles at all. In fact, he had never so much as been a named character. Courfeyrac assumed this didn't bother the timid young man, as he never spoke up about it and never seemed discouraged when Courf got lead after lead. 

Marius had taken his bike over to Courfeyrac's house on a warm Friday night in September, sweating as he rang the doorbell.

"Hey dude. Come on in. I was just playing call of duty, but I was thinking we could watch Aladdin later because I wanna perfect the role before I even get cast, y'know?" He smiled brightly at his friend as he opened the door and gestured for him to come inside, immediately bounding towards the basement.

"Marius, how are you? I haven't seen you in a couple weeks!" Courfeyrac's father Vincent grinned, patting Marius's shoulder bracingly. He was well aware that Marius major problems at home with his verbally abusive, dismissive grandfather as his guardian.

Courf and his father lived comfortably with Courfeyrac's little sister Emilie in a cape-style house in a secluded neighborhood. The children didn't quite miss for their mother, as she had passed away in a car accident when Emilie was only four months old and Courfeyrac was two. Still, their household was sometimes filled with uncomfortable, sullen silences that could not be ignored. Even the endless love they had for each other couldn't cut the tension in the air. 

"Eh, I'm alright. I've been forgetting stuff a lot lately." He shrugged, his normal tight tone with adults evaporating as he spoke with the man whom he considered to be the closest thing he ever had to a father. 

"I'm sure there are some things you could try, yeah? Maybe writing it on your hand, putting a sticky note on your bedroom door." Vincent tried, a tight yet reassuring smile spread across his aging features. 

"Yeah, probably. I really appreciate it, Vincent. Also, thanks for packing me stuff in Courf's lunches. Means a lot." Marius blushed, hurrying to follow Courfeyrac into the basement. 

"So, at the part where I become Prince Ali, do you think I should go for the over-confident thing or the oh-my-god-I'm-so-excited-to-be-here thing? Because I mean-" 

"Courf, are you sure you've even got the part?" Marius asked softly, plopping down on the patched up couch beside his friend. 

"Pontmercy, are you for real? I always get whatever part I want. Of course I'll be Aladdin. Musichetta loves me!" He laughed dismissively, taking out the call of duty disk from the xbox and putting Aladdin into the DVD player. 

"What if there's someone that's better than you?" 

"There isn't." And with that, Courfeyrac shushed Marius as the movie began, watching intently as the role he would obviously be playing soon was jumping about. 

Marius fell asleep before Aladdin even got a chance to meet the genie, bored to death by what he deemed to be a childish plot and obnoxious amounts of musical numbers. Courfeyrac almost felt bad for the kid- he'd never know that Aladdin and Jasmine got together at the end! 

That train of thought of course lead to him wondering who would he playing Jasmine to his Aladdin. The only girls who had been involved in the theatre program had been in the grade above him and had graduated the year before. After racking his brain, he couldn't think of a single girl he knew of who would be interested in trying out for such a large role.

He'd take the opportunity to kiss anyone, really. There was only one girl he truly hated- Éponine Thénardier. He would never let go of the fact that she pushed him off of the monkey bars and third grade and gave him the middle finger instead of apologizing. He still gave her a cold glare if he ever caught her eye, and she returned it with more force and more hatred than the bright boy could ever muster.

\-----

"Would the following students please come down to the office: Éponine Thénardier and Luc Montparnasse? Again, Éponine Thénardier and Luc Montparnasse down to the office, please."

It wasn't a friendly reminder for two kids to come down to the office and pick up some shit their mother had dropped off. The tone of the secretary's voice wasn't bright and cheery, it was urgent and cold. Éponine knew she was in deep shit, only she didn't know what for. Now to think of it, she'd done a lot that would warrant a talk from Principal Javert. Perhaps it was everything inappropriate she had ever done all coming back to bite her in the ass? She shuddered at the thought of it.

She came across Montparnasse as he was on his way to the office as well. She had forgotten that he had been called as well. She stopped to walk with him, giving him a tight simper as a greeting.

"Do you know why we got called down? I haven't done anything in, like, three weeks! I've been showing up every single day. Now you, you're the one who's been ditching! What the fuck are they doing calling me down?" Montparnasse fumed, wearing a grimace that appeared simply murderous.

"Calm down. It's not like they can send us to jail or whatever." She grumbled, attempting to lighten the mood with a guttural chuckle.

Montparnasse was silent in the most terrifying way for the rest of their voyage down to the main office, earning curious stares from fellow students in the halls. Éponine and Montparnasse were known as troublemakers, and usually known for making said trouble together. Everyone was wondering just what they had done this time around? Would it be as severe a punishment as the time Montparnasse mooned a teacher so that Éponine could climb out the window? That got them both three week suspensions and subsequent seemingly endless lunch detentions.

As soon as the pair arrived in the office, it was clear that there was a very good chance that this incident was just as bad as the ass window thing, as they called it.

"Do you two know what you have done?" Principal Javert asked, his tone grave and low. 

Éponine responded with an exaggerated eye roll, Montparnasse with a stifled laugh at the serious tone.

"This is not a laughing matter, nor is it insignificant enough that you can simply write it off with a rude eye gesture, Miss Thénardier." Javert continued coldly, his glaring eyes searching the students before him.

"Get to the point. What're we in here for?" Éponine inquired irritatedly.

"Random locker checks were issued yesterday afternoon." Javert bit out the words, clearly waiting for a reaction from the delinquents.

Montparnasse's eyes widened. He had absolutely no idea that old Javert had the authority to do that. Shit! He had three packs of cigarettes in his locker, and not inconspicuously. Éponine paled as she realized that she, too, had the same contraband lying blatantly in her school locker. "You can't check our lockers, you old pervert!" Éponine spat, her voice becoming shrill.

"Miss Thénardier, please, if you would have paid any attention to the student handbook issued to you, you would have noticed that the administration reserves the right to look through any locker on the campus. They do belong to our school and not to you." He thought it best to simply ignore the 'old pervert' part of her accusation. It wasn't worth his time to persecute her for that.

"Of course, sir. I'm sure Éponine understands now." Montparnasse said through his teeth, elbowing the girl in the gut. "But, could you kindly cut to the chase? What's our punishment?"

"I'm not sure she does. Moving on, your punishment is...well, I didn't quite get to decide on it, and I frankly don't find it suitable. But, your punishment is that you are to join an extracurricular activity. You'll learn from it, or so your guidance counselor Mrs. Mabeuf says." He sounded mildly bored, and beyond irritated that the damn guidance counselor would not permit him to do what he thought best. She had absolutely insisted that he take her suggestion. She did not take no for an answer, it seemed.

"What if I don't got the time to do that?" Éponine narrowed her eyes.

"Don't have the time, not don't got the time. And you will make time, Miss Thénardier. You have a minimal amount of homework in your remedial classes and you aren't engaged in any other after school activities of sports, so this leads me to believe that you have ample time to join an extracurricular activity. Now, I have a meeting so I'll be going now. Sign up for something tonight or risk another suspension." With that, Javert turned on his heel and stormed into his office.

"Fuck, Mont," Éponine groaned, "I don't want to do any of this shit."

"Sports would be the most bearable I guess, but at this point all the fucking spots are taken." Mont mumbled, picking at his bloodied cuticles.

"What's open?"

"Let's see: there's pottery club, harmony club-"

"Ugh, no."

"Don't interrupt. Computer club, app development and shit, and then there's the fruity drama program." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

"I don't see a single sliver of appeal in any of those stupid clubs."

"The only appeal of drama is pushing all those losers off the damn stage and hearing the bones crack."

"You're a fucking psycho, you know that?" She laughed, swatting him playfully as they sat restlessly on a tiny bench in the courtyard, her legs propped up on his shoulder and his stretched out on her lap. 

"So now we're in trouble and we didn't even get to keep the shit in our lockers. This is just lose-lose for us, 'Ponine." 

"You can get more later. Now we've gotta pick some fucking activity to do and I'd rather jump off a cliff and die a rocky death." 

"Éponine! I told you, don't say shit like that! You're so fucked up." 

"Excuse me?" Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you just mention throwing people off stage and listening to their bones break? And shit, Mont, I'm sorry for being fucked up, but why don't you take that up with my parents?" 

"I was kidding, Ép. I'd get in trouble for that, y'know. I'm trying to go somewhere in life and my record already sucks balls." 

"I still think you're a sadist." 

"I still think you're an asshole." 

"Fair enough."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tension between the Thénardier sisters, the introduction of the lovely techie Combeferre and some drama in the Tholomyes household. Enjoy :)

Azelma Thénardier could not have possibly been any less similar than her older sister. Azelma worked her ass off every single day, often not sleeping at all so that she could finish a project or study for an exam. She barely even saw her sister, as they had opposite schedules. Éponine was home all day and gone all night, while Azelma was the complete opposite, gone all day at school and copious after school activities while she shut herself in all night to work. She was determined to dig herself out of the hole her parents had dug for her siblings in her, and she was confused as to why Éponine and Gavroche weren't trying in the least.

On the rare occasion that Éponine and Azelma did share the dingy apartment, it was always a bit awkward. Azelma would try to make small talk and ask about how her sister was doing while Éponine would ignore her in favor of the liquor cabinet.

"Hey, Ép," Azelma cleared her throat, setting aside her history homework for a moment in favor of attempting to speak to her older sister. Éponine was a year old than Azelma, though they were in the same grade on account of Éponine being held back in seventh grade. 

"What do you want?" Éponine snapped, in a particularly bad mood after her trip to the principal's office with Montparnasse. She was perched atop the dirty counter with an unlit cigarette hanging out of the corner of her mouth. She eyed her sister suspiciously, lifting the lighter to her lips slowly. 

"I just wanted to talk a little," Azelma shrugged, hoisting herself onto the counter but keeping her distance from Éponine so as not to be killed. "We never talk." 

"What is this, a lifetime movie?" Éponine scoffed, inching herself further away from her increasingly discouraged little sister.

Azelma bit her lip briefly, not sure what she should say next. She hated to piss her sister off so much, but she was so lonely. She didn't want to spend all her time studying, and she wished she didn't have to but she couldn't condemn herself to the life Éponine seemed to have chosen. Still, she hated the silence and darkness that filled what was supposed to be their home. She longed for the kind of relationship the sisters she had seen in movies had. They would talk and stay up together watching bad movies and go on adventures and make up games and inside jokes. When she was given the rare chance to even see her sister, Éponine completely shut her out and ignored her. Not only was she lonely, but she was extremely concerned for her sister. She put a valiant effort into keeping her bottom lip from trembling, but it was in vain.

"What're you crying about, 'Zelma? Did you get a B?" Éponine muttered with a slight laugh, leaning against the wall nonchalantly.

"I'm worried about you." Azelma whispered, her big green eyes filling with tears as she cowered away from her sister, who was barely five feet tall.

"Why the fuck are you worried about me?" Éponine spat, becoming defensive. "I can take care of myself, y'know. I don't need a child worrying about me."

"I'm only ten months younger than you. And I'm worried about you because you're throwing your life away! You never go to school, you drink and smoke and I know you didn't think I saw, but I did see you and Montparnasse snorting drugs or something."

"It's none of your business, you uptight bitch." Éponine snarled, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

"Éponine, please. You're going to die a-and...I s-saw the time you did things with papa's friends. Why would you even do that?" Azelma's eyes widened at her own words, surprised that she had dared to mention the disturbing things she had seen one hot summer night when she was supposed to be in bed. She had been so completely horrified. She was aware that Éponine was a bit reckless and that she sometimes acted out in ways that made Azelma very uncomfortable, but she felt absolutely sick when she saw her sister in bed with Babet while the other disgusting old men watched with cold laughs. She'd thought her sister was above something as disgusting as that incident, and she had been more wary of Éponine in the months since. 

"You little bitch!" Éponine screeched immediately, rising from the counter with a start as her expression grew wildly angry, her eyes seemed a shade darker. Without thinking, she lunged at Azelma and pressed the lit cigarette against her sister's bare skin, screaming as she did so with hot tears running down her face. 

Azelma screamed one long shrill scream, hitting her head on the cabinets as she tried to scurry away from her crazed sister. Of course, she knew she shouldn't have brought it up but it seemed that Éponine was overreacting to being called out on something she had done.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't!" Azelma sputtered, her eyes wide with horror as she saw a side of Éponine she had never believed existed. Her eyes were filled with such rage, Azelma legitimately feared for her life.

Éponine's fist flew quickly in the air towards Azelma's delicate face, the impact of the punch enough to knock the girl out. She stopped, it seemed, right before the punch would have hit Azelma and paused in the air. Éponine was completely silent for a second, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and into her lap as her raised fist began to shake involuntarily.

"Éponine? I'm really sorry." Azelma whispered, taking a deep breath as her sister's rage seemed to have died out.

"Do you really think that was my choice?" Éponine finally bit out slowly, setting her raised fist down in her lap and slumping hopelessly.

"What do you mean?"

"Really, 'Zelma? You're such a fucking child. You'd never understand." Éponine sniffled, jumping down from the counter and walking quickly out of the apartment with her head bowed.

Her unwanted punishment was far from her mind now. Of course she couldn't talk to Azelma, and this was why. Azelma was sweet and tried her best to be understanding, but she hadn't been through half of what Éponine had just for being the oldest.

Sure, 'Zelma had to put up with absentee parents and dingy apartments, but the eldest Thénardier daughter was the one who got harassed and cat-called by her father's dirty friends. She was the one who learned from a pretty your age that the only way to get attention was to do whatever disgusting things her father wanted for her. And the things that interested her, the deals, the 'business', the scandals were the things she was not included in.

Often when she heard that 'the boys' would be coming over, she would flee to Montparnasse's, as even though he was one of 'the boys', he often skipped out on their meetings, and even if he didn't she was always welcome in his apartment anyways. He trusted her not to take anything or make some kind of mess for him.

But Azelma didn't have to escape every other fucking day. All she had to do was stay in their shared bedroom continuing to do her homework as usual or read, and the only time she was ever bothered was when the guys were looking for the older daughter. Sometimes Éponine wasn't lucky enough to escape on time. Azelma must have witnessed one of those unfortunate times, Éponine realized. She almost felt bad to have exposed sweet little Azelma to such a thing, but then again she was the one going through hell, so her sympathy dissolved into anger.

\-----

Combeferre took great pleasure in the importance he felt while manning the sound board for all of the school musicals. He had always quick to learn, resourceful and intelligent. He hadn't known how exactly to work a sound board, but he wanted to try something new, being bored with mathletes, physics club, creative writing club, track and band. Once he got his hands on the technology, he was quicker and overall better than any senior at that point, and that was back when they performed Grease his freshman year. For Grease, Seussical and Chicago, he had been the go-to tech man. Girls in the productions often fell for his bookish charm, the outdated glasses and scruffy mop of strawberry blonde hair. He never seemed to notice, the one thing he did notice seeming to be the star of every show, the broadway-bound Courfeyrac. He was always in awe while Courf perform, the way he swept the audience off their feet and managed to keep their attention for hours. Hell, they didn't need any of the other cast members in Combeferre's opinion. Courferyac could hold up the whole damn show.

Based on his techie past, he was absolutely sure he would be in charge for Aladdin, in which he was sure that Courfeyrac would be playing the titular role. He couldn't wait.

\------

Éponine and Montparnasse were to choose their dumb after school activity by Thursday. It was Wednesday evening and they were laying around at Montparnasse's place while a game of poker went on at Éponine's. This was the usual for a Wednesday night, but they were both working tirelessly to figure out which activity would be most beneficial to them somehow.

"I'm going to say no to harmony club. I don't give a fuck about it." Montparnasse grumbled, holding a crinkled sheet of paper listing the possible activities.

"Computer, app development, pottery.." Éponine read over his shoulder, a perpetual grimace on her face.

"That leaves drama."

"Hell fucking no, Mont. D'you wanna be those losers in there?" Éponine scowled, turning away from him and pacing restlessly.

"'Ponine, we have to pick something. Javert emailed my fake mom's email and said that if we don't do this, he's gonna send us to a fucking recovery center for youths. Do you think you'd like that?" Montparnasse flopped on the patched-up couch, dramatically throwing his hand over his eyes.

"Fine, fine. Which one will give us the most credits?"

"I hate to say this, but drama is the only one with credits. Art credits. We need those to graduate, y'know."

"Ugh, I guess we're theatre scum now. Is it an option to sign up for stage crew and stand in the back? Do I still get art credits for that?" Éponine plopped down besides him, propping her legs up on his in a comfortably familiar way.

"Yeah, you can do that. I-I think I'll try out. You get more credits that way." Montparnasse stammered, crumpling up the sheet and tossing it in the trash with flawless aim.

"It ain't worth it."

\-----

"Hello, I'm Fantine Tholomyes. I'm supposed to be here to meet Mr. Fauchelevent...ten minutes ago. Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I'm just running late because Cosette had her-" Fantine ran her hand through her hair, which was messy because she didn't have time to brush it in the craziness of that afternoon. Cosette had creative writing club, then a lacrosse clinic that Félix had signed her up for, and Fantine almost forgot about the meeting.

"It isn't a problem, Mrs. Tholomyes. I can send you in now, if you'd like. Mr. Fauchelevent is ready for you." Javert nodded curtly, escorting the frazzled woman silently to a classroom with the door propped open slightly.

Once Javert had left her with yet another curt nod, she knocked on the door timidly, absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger.

"You must be Mrs. Tholomyes!" A bulky older man opened the door quickly, gesturing for Fantine to come inside. His friendly tone didn't seem to match his towering height and strong build.

"Yes, thank you so much for having this talk with me." She smiled softly, sitting down in the chair he offered her next to his.

"Of course. So, you're concerned about Cosette in math?"

"Yes, very. She spends hours on just two problems and I don't know just how to help her. It sounds like you've tried everything teaching-wise, but she's just not getting it." Fantine sighed hopelessly, hoping there was some way her daughter could be more comfortable in math.

By the end of their little meeting, Fantine felt reassured. She couldn't remember one word of what Mr. Fauchelevent said- why, she didn't know- but she had a good gut feeling that this kindly man would try his very best to make her little Cosette comfortable and happy in math class.

With that, she drove home, still a little bit off-balance for some odd reason.

When at last Fantine arrived home, it was clear that a very serious family dinner was about to take place. The butterflies in her stomach turned into angry swarming bees. Félix had ordered take out from an upscale restaurant and set the food onto the family's good china. Now, this might seem like the set up for a special occasion, but both Fantine and Cosette knew very well that it could not be anything better than...well, abysmal. 

The two terrified women sat silently, their eyes glued on the seat at the head of the table where the menacing Félix sat. 

"I'm sure you girls have noticed that we are to have a serious discussion." He began, his tone cold and his words coming out with an articulate clarity. The two women opposite him trembled, having the sense to nod obediently. 

"As the one and only man of the house, I am certain that I reserve the right to know everything that is going on under my roof. Correct?" 

Quick nods followed from Fantine and little Cosette. 

"Euphrasie, I'm extremely disappointed in you. Fantine, my wife, I'm far more disappointed in you than in your daughter. I have just found Euphrasie's report card, which I now know you hid in her bureau drawer. The ugly cleaning woman found it for me and thought I might be interested in it and I surely am." His tone was so nonchalant, so calm that it was almost more terrifying than his usual bellow. 

"I-I'm sorry, darling. I just didn't want Cosette-" 

"Euphrasie." 

"I didn't want Euphrasie to be upset. I know that you try your best to be helpful in regards to her grades, but it makes her sad when you yell." Fantine spoke up, her timid voice becoming stronger and louder as she went on, though her words didn't quite match the tone. 

"Fantine, please. You're giving me a headache." Félix rubbed his temples, looking at his wife and daughter disdainfully. "Euphrasie cannot be a failure! No child of mine is a failure." His tone grew louder, morphing into his usual frightening bellow. "You've both failed me! Euphrasie, you've failed me by being a useless dumbass. I didn't need some spacey daughter— hell, I wanted a son! But you! You can't make use of yourself! You can't cook, you can't clean, you're a blithering idiot, and you surely won't be appealing to any man if you're such a stupid girl!" 

Cosette's big blue eyes widened, filling quickly with tears that ran down her pale cheeks just as quickly. Her mother reached over to squeeze her hand under the table, but she could barely feel it through all the pain she felt from her father's words. Fantine looked at her pitifully, though she couldn't say anything as she was next to be yelled at. 

"And Fantine...Fantine, you're my wife! You turned your back on me, you useless slut! You lied! You know what? You know what? Fuck you! Fuck you both! I've worked so hard to make this a wonderful, supportive family and you idiots have both thrown it away!" Félix stood up with a start, nearly pushing the table over as he stormed upstairs with more urgency than Fantine had ever seen. 

As he left, both women were complete wrecks, Cosette quietly whimpering into her hand as Fantine dissolved into loud, broken sobs. Things were about to change in the broken household, but the most terrifying part was that neither of them knew how.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's audition day! (Part 1 of audition day)

The first day of February was the day of the Aladdin auditions. It was only one short announcement among the other morning announcements, meaning absolutely nothing to the majority of the school who didn't give one single shit. To a few students in particular, this sent an excited chill up their spine. They only had until the end of the school day to prepare, which was both nerve wracking and extremely exciting.

Courfeyrac's stomach flipped nervously while he sat in math, but of course, he would never tell anybody about that. Someone as talented as he knew he was shouldn't need to be nervous. It had been one thing when he was nervous in ninth grade- he didn't know if he'd do well or make a good impression. He was still a bit sore about never getting parts in the middle school productions, sore about the "immense pain" of getting smaller parts than the majority of the seventh graders when he was in eighth grade. 

"You look nervous, Courf." Marius remarked with a teasing smirk, tapping his pencil on his desk absentmindedly. 

"Hell no," Courfeyrac shook his head quickly, ignoring the pointed look from Mr. Fauchelevent at his loud tone. Of course, the teacher was very much used to Courfeyrac and Marius goofing off and talking for entire classes at times. He let it slide for the most part, as the boys both got passable grades. 

"What if you don't get Aladdin?" Marius asked with a raised eyebrow, blushing a light shade of pink at the look from the teacher. He still got anxious when reprimanded in even the slightest way, though being friends with Courfeyrac made him adapt to it a bit more. 

"That's out of the question." Courfeyrac answered bluntly, turning his attention from his friend and back to the whiteboard. 

Across the room, Cosette Tholomyes was so nervous, she felt physically sick, as if she would throw up. Of course, she was still on edge about the conflict at home last night. Her father had left for work earlier than usual, not there when Cosette and Fantine woke up to prepare for the school day. Fantine had been unusually quiet that morning, usually a morning person who would chat away with her little girl as she made her breakfast and braided her hair. That morning, she sat at the table and read the same page of a book for thirty minutes and barely spoke a word to Cosette. 

Her typical minimal focus was completely gone between the upcoming audition and last night's conflict at home. Mr. Fauchelevent noticed, watching her with concern for a moment before moving on, hoping he could talk to her at the end of class. She looked as if she would throw up. 

She hadn't had the chance to practice the audition song at all in fear of setting her father off. He had been extra grumpy lately, yelling at her and her mother simply for talking too loudly. Clearly, singing would not do. She wasn't even sure how she sounded on the song, except for the way it sounded when she sang it under her breath at lunch. It sounded fine, but then again, she didn't know how it would really sound. After the blow-up about the audition, her father had cancelled her voice lessons and she had no way to sing at all. Her mother apologized profusely but she was still messed up over it. 

As Mr. Fauchelevent assigned a textbook page to work on, the door burst open and hit his desk with a loud bang. He looked up sharply, seeing exactly what he expected. The girl he knew as being tragic, as she had such potential to be a highly intelligent person but almost never came to class. 

When she did come to class, she was most likely under the influence, as she was currently. She knew very well that any other teacher would yell at her, but Mr. Fauchelevent felt sorry for her. She knew that somehow he had come across her father unpleasantly, but she had no idea how. She only knew since her father had grimaced and cursed about the man under his breath when he heard that he was teaching at Éponine and Azelma's school. 

Instead of hating her from coming from such a trashy family, he felt sorry for her. She only acted out because of her circumstances, because she was silenced at home, he thought. He didn't know the half of it. 

"Éponine, you're a bit late." He remarked softly, setting the whiteboard marker down and squatting down next to the seat she had just plopped down in. 

"No shit," Éponine replied, lifting her pencil sloppily and pretending to start the textbook work. 

"This is only the second time you've come in this week. It's Friday. If you want to get anywhere, you have to work harder. And you can't show up to class when you've been drinking. Actually, you aren't supposed to be drinking anyways."

"That's nice." She muttered, her words slightly slurred.

"Éponine, please. Can you try a little harder?"

"No promises, buddy. It don't matter if I try or not. I suck at this."

"No, you don't. You just don't try. You show up twice a week and you show up drunk half of the time. If you actually applied yourself, I know you would do well. There are some people in this room who just aren't gifted in math, but you are not one of those people. You need to study and do your homework. You need to come to class, alright." He looked at her sternly, discouraged that her work was simply just scribbles. 

"Good for you." She mumbled, putting her pencil down and staring at him indignantly. 

Fauchelevent stood up with a reigned sigh and proceeded to make his way over to the struggling Cosette.

Éponine sighed loudly, painfully aware of all the stares directed at her. She wouldn't care much even if she were sober, and her state made her even less aware of the humiliation. But when she turned her head to see the gaping students, they all turned around just as quickly. Nobody had ever dared to piss of Éponine to her face, as her very presence made them shiver in fear. She had never actually felt the need to confront anybody, but everyone was terrified after they heard that she had broken Montparnasse's hand that one time in freshman year. 

They were just as scared of him as they were of her, and they were left on their own. It was always just the two of them and they didn't mind because everyone annoyed them too much anyways. 

She groaned audibly as she remembered that the play shit would happen later that day. She had to show that she had at least some ability to move props and possibly work the soundboard as some sort of alternate for Combeferre, even though she saw absolutely no point in that. She felt absolutely no desire to spend her free time staying after school, but she also felt like she must graduate somehow. The only bit of entertainment she foresaw was video-taping Mont's audition and using it against him later. She giggled at the thought of it, and not quietly. That got her some more confused and annoyed looks. 

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. Who the hell did this girl think she was? Barely ever showing up to class and showing up drunk half the time. He scowled at her, completely unafraid of anything he might get in return. In fact, he wasn't like everybody else. He wasn't terrified of Éponine, oh no. He just hated her with every fiber of his being and became physically uncomfortable when she was near him. "God, she is such a bitch." He muttered to Marius, who was trying but failing to focus on his math work. 

"I don't know about that. I don't think it's fair to say that. You don't even know her." Marius murmured in response, frowning at what he thought to be his friend's inconsideration. 

"Marius, come on dude! Remember that time in third grade?" Courf hissed, attempting to keep his voice down so as not to attract the attention of the teacher or Éponine herself.

"You sound like an idiot, Courf. It was third grade. Let it go!" Marius chuckled at his friends idiocy. 

"Look at her! She's a total asshole. The only person who likes her is that other dickwad kid." 

"I feel bad for her." Marius muttered, stealing a quick look back at her. 

"Why the hell would you feel bad for her? She's the devil!" Courf asked incredulously. 

"I don't know. Her parents never come to stuff, even in middle school. I remember the teachers used to like act as her parents or whatever. And it probably doesn't help that nobody likes her." He whispered, his stomach twisting as he realized the slight chance of her hearing him. He would have his face smashed in if she heard, he was sure of it. 

Courfeyrac paused for a moment, but the snarl returned to his freckled face. "That doesn't excuse her being a major pain in the ass. I still can't stand her." 

"Just try to be nice. She hasn't really been outwardly mean to you since third grade. Seriously, you need to get over it." 

\---------

The rest of the school day went by in a blur. Cosette, who was usually quite on point in every class but math, could not for the life of her pay attention for the whole entire day. When Mr. Fauchelevent had tried his best to give her instructions back in first period math, she hadn't been able to hang on to one word he said. The man who always tried extra hard for her had eventually given up for that class. He figured he wouldn't be able to pull her head out of the clouds on that particular day.

Courfeyrac hadn't even attempted to flirt tirelessly with his crush in science. She had been thankful for the break from his cheesy yet somehow charming flirting. 

Marius hadn't paid attention in history, his favorite class. He usually took avid notes and engaged in intelligent conversations with the teacher. It was the only class he wasn't too shy to speak in and yet he hadn't spoken at all on the day of the audition. He had feigned frustration when Courfeyrac had supposedly forced him into auditioning, but Courfeyrac was too interested in his own audition to notice how Marius was feeling on the matter. 

Éponine was coming and going as much as she usually did. Sure, she had a feeling of dread for the afternoon ahead, but she wasn't one of the kids who was auditioning so she wasn't nervous in any way. She had a rule that she only showed up for first period math because first period was always when attendance was taken and after she was marked present, she could ditch any other class she wanted. She didn't give a shit about missing her learning or whatever the fuck Azelma or her teachers told her. Still, she managed to have mostly low C's and high-middle D's. She didn't take any pride in in her intelligence, but it was definitely there in abundance. Had she applied herself even a little bit, that would have been clear, but she chose to remain the kid who didn't get put in remedial math only because they didn't want her and her partner-in-crime (sometimes literally) in the same classroom and Mont needed more math help than she did. 

Montparnasse would never tell anyone - especially Éponine - that he was oddly excited for the auditions that afternoon. And he wasn't nervous in the least. He was always quite aware how amazing he was at everything, and he figured that performing would be no different. He knew he had the charisma to excel in the art of theatre. But still, he had heard many of his close acquaintances bashing the art and calling it 'gay'. When Éponine had muttered under her breath to Claquesous that she was being forced to join the club along with Montparnasse, he had laughed loudly and called them both some highly offensive names that even they didn't like to repeat. Éponine herself had called the program 'fruity' herself, and Mont had played along. She would think him so low if she knew how it excited him- it wasn't like she had ever thought or spoke highly of him anyways. 

Combeferre was always a very studious young boy— genuinely caring about his classes, asking intriguing questions and reading up on the subject material. On the day of the audition, he couldn't remember what he had learned ten minutes before. Obviously, he wasn't nervous about getting the position as leader of the tech crew. That was guaranteed based on his skill. He was increasingly excited about seeing the charismatic Courfeyrac light up the stage again. He was far too nervous and shy to approach the boy at school, but drama gave him ample opportunity to spend time with Courfeyrac. 

\----- 

Montparnasse approached the scowling Éponine right after school trying desperately to hide his excited grin. 

"Hey, we've got that thing now." He bumped his shoulder into hers playfully as he met her in the hallway. 

"Oh, joy," Éponine spat sarcastically, bumping back into him much more roughly than he might have liked. "Are you sure there isn't any way to get out of this?"

"Unfortunately not, princess." He teased, stomping down on her foot in response, earning a growl from her. 

"Fuck. I have to stay here till fucking four o'clock just to show 'em I can move sets. This is utter bullshit." Éponine scowled, glaring at him in response to his foot-stomping and returning it with a good knee in the balls—which might have been taking it too far, but she was beyond caring. 

"Ow, 'Ponine! Don't be a dick," Mont hissed, distancing himself from her instead of continuing the fight. He knew very well that the one person who was stronger than him was Éponine and he didn't to live with the embarrassment of being beaten by her yet again. Not only was she a girl, but she was barely five feet tall. He felt pathetic. And he was still pretending not to give a shit about the play, he remembered. "I don't wanna do this either." He added, for good measure. 

Éponine pushed the auditorium door open slowly, walking in as slowly and reluctantly as one possibly could as Montparnasse followed obediently behind her. 

The theater director, Musichetta, was already dancing through the auditorium to greet all the students crowding into the theatre. She waltzed over to Éponine and Montparnasse, her expression slightly confused. Clearly, she hadn't been informed about the delinquents being forced into her program— not that she minded. She was welcoming and accepting of anyone. She was just surprised that such kids has chosen the drama program. 

"Hello! You must be new to the program, yes?" She raised an eyebrow, her glossy black curls bouncing as she looked between Éponine and Montparnasse. Her big hazel eyes searched the two seniors standing before her. 

"No shit," Éponine muttered, her eyes cast downward indignantly. She knew it was dumb to act out and that it would only get her into more trouble but she was so fucking done with the drama program and she hadn't even started. 

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine?" Musichetta chuckled, somehow genuinely amused by the girl's bad attitude.

"Whatever. Am I supposed to show you that I can carry stuff or something?" Éponine rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, my dear...." Musichetta paused.

"Éponine." She mumbled in response, picking at her fingernails.

"Yes, Éponine, I'll need to sort that out with you later. For now, you've the wonderful opportunity to watch the auditions!" 'Chetta beamed, gesturing excitedly towards the stage.

At least Éponine would get to video tape Mont, right?

\-----

Once Cosette finally arrived in the audition room, her stomach twisted even worse than it had all day. The stage lights were on, the students were filling in and it was growing louder and louder. She was nervous, in fact, she was so nervous she could barely stand. But she knew she had to bring everything she had to the performance or else what was it worth? She had caused so many fights with her father, so much distress for her and her mother. She had to pull through, she had to prove to her father that she was worth his time even if she wasn't doing well in math like he would have liked.

She sat next to a couple of girls who were in a few of her classes that she knew fairly well. Cosette was somebody was always widely liked—liked, not loved. She was never ever mean to anybody, but there was nothing her classmates saw as special. Still, she could sit at any table and feel welcome, unless you counted her dinner table. That was a good feeling to have in school, to not be completely rejected.

She felt horrible for the kids who were rejected like that. She even felt bad for Éponine, even though she figured the rude attitude earned her that status. Still, she imagined it must feel dreadful to be trapped like that.

As she sat down at the audition, she couldn't even talk to the girls beside her. There was a lump in her throat the size of a baseball that she couldn't seem to swallow down. She couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like once she was auditioning on the stage. Her father had never let her perform in any previous productions, as he found them frivolous and foolish. She longed to know what it felt like to stand under the stage lights and feel the interested gazes from those in the audience. 

But first she would have to get through the audition. 

\----

Courfeyrac burst through the door (with Marius trailing close behind) five minutes before anyone else showed. He felt at home within the roomy auditorium: the buzz of excitement from the theatre kids around him, the songs being practiced all around him that filled his ears with the familiar sound of the Aladdin soundtrack, Musichetta's lilting voice carrying through the entire room, and the lights and soundboard being tested over and over again. He let out a deep sigh. He was ready to slay the audition. Now he just had to wait until it was his turn to light up the stage.

Marius stood behind him, waiting rather impatiently as Courfeyrac stopped repeatedly to "take in the atmosphere". He hoped Courfeyrac knew how pretentious he sounded. Aside from that, he was actually quite excited (though very nervous) for his audition. He knew he had no chance of getting Aladdin as long as his best friend was in the picture, but another smaller role would make him very happy. He just wanted to feel like a member of the cast. He had heard some kids last year refer to the group as their "drama family" and he definitely wanted to take part in that. It sounded warm and welcoming to him.

"Are you ready?" Marius asked, shoving his friend lightly as they sat down in the audience seats.

"Pontmercy, I was born ready. You see, this role will be my biggest yet. I mean, sure, all my other roles were super cool, but I'm really feeling this one. I can feel that it's going to be my best year yet." He paused for a moment and looked at his friend for once. "Marius, are listening?"

Marius, in fact, was not listening. His gaze was set intently on a particularly adorable girl a few rows ahead and to the left. She was visibly nervous, fiddling with her chestnut hair and biting the bottom part of her full lips. And Marius could not take his eyes off of her. He felt extremely light-headed in the best possible way, the wind knocked out of him for a startling moment. Why hadn't he noticed this girl before? She could have easily been in one of his classes, but he always had his head in the clouds during the school day anyways. He felt so intensely compelled to speak to her, but he knew he'd completely fuck off and scare her off forever. 

"Marius?" Courfeyrac was a tad irritated now. 

No answer from Marius. 

"You okay, dude?" He reached over and shook Marius's shoulder, pulling the boy out of his trance. 

"I'm in love, Courf!" Marius declared dramatically. How fitting.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette's audition is a success, as is Courfeyrac's, and Montparnasse's would have been if he didn't have a certain brunette laughing at him in the audience.

Cosette was beaming when she plopped down in the passenger seat of Fantine's minivan. After some reflection, she could only find one negative moment from that afternoon. She would usually have been horrified and completely distraught about something as stupid and terrifying as spilling coke on the scariest girl she had ever seen. On any other day, she would have probably cried if she had such negative contact with the terrifying Thénardier girl. 

But her audition had gone so very well. Her voice held up beautifully as she sang Jasmine's part in "A Whole New World". She had been nervous that her voice would break when she transitioned into her head voice, but it came out clear and resonant as she hoped it would. Musichetta was never particularly good at hiding her opinions, and she clearly loved the petite performer. Plus, everybody's favorite star, Courfeyrac, had come up to her afterwards to comment on her spectacular audition. Oddly enough, his lanky friend Marius had stammered and mumbled his way through saying something that she could not understand. She had smiled kindly, appreciating the boy's effort. Really, he was rather cute.

So when she made the mistake of opening her soda as she sat behind Éponine Thénardier, she wasn't quite as fazed when it sprayed all over the girl's ratty dark hair. Éponine had spun her head around so quickly that Cosette could hear her neck crack. She'd called Cosette an abundance of inappropriate names, but they all sounded like a blur to the excited Cosette. She did hope, however, that Éponine would forget about this and not bring the conflict back later, when Cosette didn't feel quite as high. She felt guilty for thinking to herself that perhaps Éponine would be the high one later. She figured it was none of her business what Éponine did with her own body, and plus, she knew Éponine's parents were absent. Everybody knew, but would never dare to talk about it. She felt equally terrified of and sorry for Éponine. 

"How was the audition, honey?" Fantine asked enthusiastically as Cosette threw the door open. She read Cosette's expression, filling with excitement as she noticed her daughter's bright smile. 

"It was just wonderful! The director loves me and I didn't mess up once! There's this boy who always gets leads and he told me that I did really well. It was perfect, Mama! All of it!" Cosette was beaming as she leaned back into the leather car seat. 

"Oh my gosh, Cosette! That is wonderful! So wonderful! I knew that you would do well. Your father is out of town for the next few days, but I'll most definitely call to let him know." Fantine smiled, her eyes filling with joyful tears. It didn't mean much— it was just an audition. But Cosette was beyond happy, and despite being a generally optimistic person, Cosette didn't get to enjoy much happiness. She was constantly stressed by school— even the subjects she excelled in stressed her out— and she never got along with her father. Seeing her so alive, seeing a twinkle in her eye, was beautiful to Fantine. Since Félix was out of town, she hoped Cosette would be up for a celebration of her success. 

\----- 

It had been a usual audition for Courfeyrac. He had been charming and bright, his rich voice resonating through the auditorium beautifully as he belted Aladdin's part in "A Whole New World". Musichetta had been just as impressed as usual, clapping loudly and shouting all kinds of praise when he was finished. He grinned as he jumped off the stage, positively sure that he had the lead in the bag. And based on her lovely audition, Cosette would lead alongside him. She seemed like a nice girl to him, but he assumed Marius liked her based on the way that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Courf knew it would be a shitty thing to ask the girl out when his best friend clearly liked her, even if he was sure, as always, that she would say yes. 

As he was leaving the auditorium with Marius on their way to Courf's father waiting in the parking lot, he suddenly remembered that he hadn't seen Marius's audition. He'd been in the bathroom fixing his hair before his own audition. 

"Dude, I didn't see your audition. Sorry. How did it go?" 

"It's okay, it didn't matter. It was fine." Marius stammered, not flustered enough for Courfeyrac to notice apparently. He was still floating on a cloud from his short encounter with that beautiful girl. He hadn't been able to even properly say hello, but he felt a spark. He didn't have crushes in school; he had always been very selective about who he was attached to. The only people he would considered loved ones were Courfeyrac and his family. But he felt as if this girl meant something to him, as well. He hoped he would figure it out. 

"Okay. Did you see mine? I didn't fuck it up once, and Musichetta loved it. I've got Aladdin, dude." Courfeyrac grinned, tugging on the strings of his backpack. 

"I'm sure it was great. I mean, it was. I saw it. Yeah, it was really good as always." Marius had zoned out for a moment, stopping short in the middle of the parking lot. 

"Jesus, Marius! This is a parking lot. You're going to get run over! What's wrong with you?" 

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong, Courf. Everything is right." 

\------

Éponine's sides hurt from laughing so hard at Mont's audition. He claimed that he didn't give a shit about the audition, that it was all for credits. Needless to say, Éponine was quite taken aback to see him sing beautifully with his dramatic tenor voice and his expressive acting. Of course, instead of congratulating him and clapping after his wonderful audition, she laughed hysterically at him. That's how their relationship had always worked, and though she was slightly tempted to congratulate him, she decided against it. 

"Don't talk to me." Montparnasse bit out, not looking Éponine in the eyes as she followed him to his car once the audition was finished. 

"You're one of the fruity drama kids, aren't you?" She barked, punching him in the arm as she jogged up beside him. 

"Why do you have to be a bitch about this, Ép?" Mont mumbled, turning a shade of red that even Éponine had never seen. 

Éponine's dissolved in a fit on uncontrollable giggles— she would never consciously giggle that way. "Okay, okay, I'm done now. It's Friday, so you're coming over right? Dad said he wanted you right after school."

Montparnasse rolled his eyes. "Great. I'd rather not spend time with any Thénardiers today. Including you."

"Well, you're stuck with us. And me." Éponine shrugged, plopping into the passenger seat.

"There are worse people to be stuck with."

"Thanks. I think."

\----

When they arrived to Éponine's apartment complex, it was clear that all of Thénardier's scumbag friends were present. Their dirty trucks were all in a straight line. Éponine groaned loudly, banging her head against the car window.

"Hey, don't break that. I'm not too happy to be here either. I'd rather operate independently." Mont muttered, pulling into the parking lot slowly.

"Why couldn't you have dropped me off at your place? You know I hate this."

"Whatever. Not everything is about you, Éponine." Mont gestured for her to follow him inside, moving quickly so as not to piss off the rest of the boys.

"That's rich coming from you, mister 'I have three mirrors and two hairbrushes in my locker'".

"Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure that Javert took one of my fucking brushes. I only have one." Mont looked genuinely angry. 

"Whatever you say, Mont." 

As the two approached the apartment, they became quieter and quieter until they were silent altogether.

"'Parnasse! We've been waiting!" Thénardier waltzed to the door and placed a bony hand on Mont's shoulder. He looked down at his daughter with disdain.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, boys. I had a prior commitment." Mont blushed slightly, stomping on Éponine's foot to keep her from saying anything. She gave him an exasperated look. She wouldn't be dumb enough to do that to him. He might actually get hurt.

"Hey, it ain't no problem. You brought Thénardier's brat with you, eh?" Brujon stumbled over to Éponine's side, already quite intoxicated. He threw a meaty arm around Éponine and pulled her in closer, chuckling as he did so. 

"Don't touch me," Éponine said through her teeth, flailing desperately to escape his tight grip. It was useless. He was more than twice her size, maybe even thrice. "Let go of me!" She whined, trying one more time to bust away. 

"Don't pretend you don't like it, you little slut." Her father sneered, his yellowed teeth peeking out from under his chapped lips. 

Éponine gave Montparnasse a furious look as she became more and more uncomfortable and wished more and more that Montparnasse hadn't thought to drop her off at his place.

"D'you wanna take this somewhere more private?" Brujon whispered so loudly that it defeated the purpose of whispering in the first place. He smiled widely, showing the hole where his front tooth should have been. Montparnasse had told Éponine that he'd punched it out back when they were twelve, but she believed that less and less as she grew up.

"No. Let go of me, you greasy pervert." Éponine growled, giving him a hard kick to the groin. He let out an involuntary yelp, his grip on her loosening. She stepped quickly away from him, only to land in her father's grip. She gulped.

"Why would you do that, you useless slut?" Thénardier scowled, pulling her closer by her hair. She swallowed hard so as to keep down her screams and cries.

"H-he wouldn't let go of me." She bit out the words, looking up at her father, who towered over her being over a foot taller than her.

"That don't give you an excuse to do that—and you'll regret doing it, Éponine." Thénardier let out a wicked laugh, letting go of her and leaving her to stumble back. 

"Hey, she's just a girl. Leave her be." Montparnasse cut in, giving her a sympathetic look for a split second. 

"And you're just a kid yourself. What're you, sixteen?" Thénardier eyed him suspiciously. 

"Eighteen." Montparnasse answered firmly, shifting slightly so that he was in front of Éponine. 

"You best get out of the way now, you little hussy. I'll give you your punishment later." Thénardier pointed to Éponine's bedroom and she scurried into the room obediently, scowling as she realized her sister was in there. Usually, Azelma would be at harmony club at this time on a Friday. 

"Why're you looking at me?" Éponine snapped, forcing back the tears that came to her eyes. 

"I'm not. Sorry." Azelma answered quickly, bowing her head for a moment, though she couldn't quite keep her eyes off of her distressed sister. 

"Why are you home anyways? Don't you have one of your stupid clubs right now?"

"It was cancelled." The younger sister answered, though she turned bright red. She wasn't telling the truth, and it was blatantly obvious. No wonder her father never put her on the watch.

"Azelma," Éponine prodded.

"Yes, Éponine?"

"You're a shitty liar. Why'd you skip?" Éponine tilted her head to the side, filled with curiosity.

"Don't be mad at me."

"I promise I won't be."

"Okay, you promised. Remember that. I came home because I'm kind of worried about you. Dad and his friends are awful to you. And I saw you do stuff yesterday—don't be mad. I just want you to be okay." Azelma's voice was incredibly soft, barely a whisper.

"I'm older than you, 'Zelma. I can take care of myself, and you can take care of yourself. And I didn't do anything yesterday."

"Yes, you did. You aren't supposed to take that many sleeping pills."

"Hey, it didn't hurt me. It just takes the edge off, yeah?" Éponine rolled her eyes dismissively, even letting out a light chuckle as she plopped down on her tiny bed.

"It could hurt you. It didn't hurt you last night, but you were lucky." Azelma spoke quickly, her words all running into each other.

Éponine spent what felt like forever—but was really twenty minutes—assuring her sister that everything was okay. She didn't intend to hurt herself, and she wouldn't ever try to. However, she drew the line when Azelma asked her if she could possibly stop smoking. Azelma was made aware of the fact that she had taken it too far when her sister stopped talking to her altogether. She sighed, discouraged. She enjoyed talking to Éponine and she hated to screw it up. 

After nearly two hours of uncomfortable silence, Azelma spoke up. 

"You've already made it abundantly that you have it harder than me—which is completely true—but I kind of hate this too." 

"Hate what? They don't even talk to you, you could disappear and they wouldn't send anyone after you like they did last time I left for a while." Éponine lifted her head from her knees, eyeing her sister confusedly. 

"Parents are supposed to talk to you, you know. They're supposed to love you, and not ignore you. They're supposed to give a crap about what happens to you." Azelma muttered bitterly, not feeling as happy as she thought she would opening up to her sister. It only reminded her of the shit her parents put her through. 

"Yeah, but with these parents, you're lucky they leave you alone." 

"Éponine, that isn't the point. I am the only one who cares about my own well-being. Nobody loves me, and that certainly isn't normal by any standards for a girl my age. Everyone at school, they have birthday parties every year and their moms insist on going prom dress shopping with them. They spend Christmas with their families. They get presents and a big dinner and everybody loves each other—" Azelma's voice caught as hot tears started to make their way down their face. 

"I'm sorry. I know it sucks, but I'm sure you've got at least two people who care for you: me and Mont. He's like our brother, isn't he? I'm sure he cares about you." 

"Éponine," Azelma chuckled bitterly, wiping her face, "He's not like my brother, he's like your brother. If you're into incest." 

"Azelma!" Éponine hissed, restraining herself from reaching out and punching her sister in the face. "Why do you always have to be such a bitch?" 

Seemingly forgetting that the assholes were just outside her room, she stormed out indignantly, leaving her tearful sister. 

She ignored the cat calls and whistles, and her father's insults as she made her way to the kitchen to get some water. 

"You ain't gonna talk, sugar? We'll wait." Brujon grinned creepily. 

"I need some water too." Montparnasse muttered, more to himself than anyone else. 

"What the hell do you want?" Éponine snarled as he joined her beside the fridge, barren of magnets, childhood pictures and calendars like all the ones she'd seen on TV growing up. 

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't drop you at my place, okay? I just didn't wanna be late, and I didn't want to have to tell 'em that I was trying out for a musical. They'd kill me, Ép." He spoke softly, eyeing the guys to make sure they weren't listening in. 

"Fuck you." She spat, stomping down on his toe and strutting away, off to nowhere in particular. She surely wasn't planning on joining Azelma back in their bedroom.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cast list is released and some more drama!

Félix Tholomyes had been rather unclear when he'd stated he would be away for the weekend. His wife asked where in particular, he said "it's a remote place. I wouldn't expect you to know where it is," and had left without another word. Of course, Fantine had been anxious. What if they were going somewhere so remote that they couldn't find their way and they got fatally lost? What if this place was far away and full of dangerous snakes and insects? These worries were silly, she was aware, but they were her slightly unsuccessful attempt to push the thought of him intentionally never coming back out of her mind. It was Monday morning, and he wasn't back. 

Cosette could sense she was off as soon as she joined her mother in the kitchen. They were more like sisters than mother and daughter, and they were both very aware of each other's tells. Cosette knew that her mother picked furiously at her fingernails when she was anxious, and Fantine knew that Cosette tapped her feet when she was. 

"Mama? Is everything okay?" Cosette tilted her head to one side, her gaze in Fantine's hands. She hadn't quite noticed that her father hadn't returned, she had assumed he'd be back some time midday on Monday, and she didn't mind his absence anyways. 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I made you an omelet, it's on the table." Fantine sprang up from her chair, giving her daughter a thin smile before she quickly left the room. 

Cosette watched her go off curiously, but she didn't think too much of it. She was too preoccupied with other thoughts, such as the fact that the cast list would be up at lunch that day. Of course, she knew there was a good chance she'd be put in the ensemble. She wasn't anything special. But still, maybe she'd get a better part than that! Her audition had gone quite well. 

She finished her breakfast quickly and got ready, catching the bus right on time and going to school without her mother's odd behavior entering her mind again. 

\-------

Éponine deemed Monday to be a skip day. Hell, she never went in on Mondays, and Montparnasse didn't tend to either—though he'd been trying not to skip anymore. 

She was in bed with no intention of getting out any time soon when the phone started ringing. Her father was a deep sleeper, only woken up by his own free will. Her mother had been nowhere in sight for weeks, and Azelma had already started the incredibly long walk to school. Éponine knew she would have to get it, as her father would kill her if she missed a call from one of his cronies. 

"Hello?" She answered groggily, rubbing her eyes as she plopped down on the patched-up couch. 

"Ép? It's Montparnasse." 

"What the fuck, Mont? Why would you call at six-thirty? You could have just texted me, y'know." Éponine growled, her finger on the end call button. 

"Wait, wait," Mont sighed, "Don't hang up. If I texted you, you wouldn't have looked. You would've stayed in bed. Can you just come into school today? Please? I'm in your parking lot." 

"Why do you want me to come in today? You can keep doing your dumb perfect attendance thing but don't think you're gonna get me to do it with you." 

"It's not that, okay? Please, Ép? It's important to me." 

"I'll come because my father's home today, not because it's important to you." Éponine grumbled finally, deciding that boxer shorts from goodwill and a black camisole was an appropriate school outfit. It was hot outside, anyways. 

"Thank you," Mont flashed a grin as Éponine sluggishly opened the passenger door. 

"Why is this so important to you?" She asked with a snarl, not bothering with a seat belt. 

Montparnasse didn't answer, instead looking forward with a stoic expression. Éponine didn't care enough to pester him about it. 

\---------   
Courfeyrac was especially genial on Monday, knowing that the announcement that he was Aladdin would be up soon enough. As it happened every year, everyone would congratulate him and he'd blush and play modest while Marius shrugged off another ensemble role. 

His mood was dampened a bit by Marius's mood. It seemed there was a dark cloud over the quiet boy that Monday. He hadn't said one word, even when Courf had asked him a direct question. He'd spent all of first period in the guidance counselor's office. Courf even took his mind off of the upcoming cast list for three seconds to think about his friend. 

"Marius? What's up with you, dude?" Courfeyrac furrowed his eyebrows, assuming something must've happened when Marius was biking to school. Marius often complained of being sprayed by passing cars or twisting his ankle. Personally, Courfeyrac thought he complained a bit too much, but he was still a bit concerned. 

Marius was always a bit soft spoken, but it was slightly concerning when he didn't reply at all. Courfeyrac shook his shoulder roughly, becoming increasingly concerned. 

"Let go of me!" Marius shouted, recoiling and staggering away from his confused friend. 

For maybe the first time in his life, Courf was at loss for words. He had never heard Marius raise his voice like that. He'd known Marius Pontmercy for twelve years and he'd never once heard him snap like that. He'd seen everything, too. He had seen his best friend cry, he had seen him laugh until he peed his pants (that was actually three times)—everything. But this. He was so intense. It was almost terrifying. 

Marius spent a moment looking down at the ground, clenching his jaw. A short while later, he lifted his head to look at Courfeyrac, who walked away abruptly, not willing to let Marius dampen his mood any further.

He stalked down the hallway, pissed that Marius had snapped at him like that. It was no secret that Courfeyrac was a touchy-feely kind of guy, and Marius shouldn't have been so pissy—especially since he was the one acting like a head case.

Courf wasn't thinking as he continued down the hallway, his head bowed, and he suddenly bumped into someone, dropping all of his books in the process.

The person across from him was bright red, stammering something inaudible as he knelt down to pick up the books he'd made Courfeyrac drop. He cleared his throat, regaining his composure, and spoke again. "I'm really sorry about that—"

"It's okay...Combeferre, right?" Courfeyrac flashed one of his inimitable grins at the bookish, tall boy who he recognized as the tech guru.

"Yes," Combeferre grinned in return, "And you're Courfeyrac. Are you excited about the cast list being posted?" He obviously felt something extremely special towards Courf, but even so he really couldn't stand how nervous he felt around him. He had always thought of himself as a composed person, yet now he felt like a lanky mess. 

"I'm pumped!" Courfeyrac nodded enthusiastically, smiling brightly as he completely lost track of time. 

On the other hand, Combeferre was never one to lose track of time, not even in these types of circumstances. He looked down at his old-fashioned watch and frowned slightly when he realized that he was already thirty seconds late for Spanish class.

"Gosh, I'm late. Uh, anyways—" Combeferre smiled at Courfeyrac once more, backing away quickly and clumsily.

Courfeyrac saw the boy off with a friendly wave, making his way to first period math without any rush.

\-------

There was a substitute teacher in math, and a particularly incompetent one. The poor thing had been stumbling through attendance for nearly three minutes, and she was only on the letter C. 

"Michel Courfeyrac?" She called, butchering his last time with a wince. 

"Here!" He called out cheerfully, cheered up from his run-in with the nice tech kid, but still facing away from Marius pointedly. Ignoring his moody friend was hard, considering the fact that they had requested to sit together at the beginning of the year and Mr. Fauchelevent had allowed it. 

The woman took another thirty whole seconds just to apologize and ask Courfeyrac how his name was really pronounced. At this point, it seemed attendance would take the whole class period. 

"I'm too sober for this." Éponine muttered to Montparnasse, kicking him under the desk, as she thought it was his fault she hadn't the time to pack something to drink. After all, he was the one who rushed her. 

"Good," Mont answered with a teasing smile, looking up at the teacher with a glare. When Montparnasse glared at anyone, it felt like ice was going through their skull. It was lucky the sub didn't see his expression, as she would've most likely just left the classroom in fear. Even Éponine felt a little sorry for her, but that didn't eliminate the frustration and annoyance. 

"It's your fault for rushing me, y'know." She hissed, scribbling furiously on her paper folder. 

"Get a fucking life, Éponine," Mont scowled, "Everything isn't someone else's fault." He twirled his black pen skillfully, his glaring eyes still on the struggling substitute. Mr. Fauchelevent was a kind, gentle man, but he still had the discipline to keep the unruly class in line. 

"It was your fault," Éponine snapped back at him, "You're the one who pulled me out of bed at the crack of dawn because you wanted me to come to school for some stupid reason." 

"Shut up," Montparnasse hissed menacingly, popping off his pen cap. "Don't be an uptight fucking bitch."'

"Excuse me!" The sub called out rather timidly, eyeing Éponine and Mont in the back corner. 

Mont snapped his head towards her angrily. "What the fuck do you want?" He growled loudly. 

"That's not the way to talk to a teacher" The woman squeaked, lifting her chin up in fake defiance. 

Everybody else in the classroom turned their heads quickly, some laughing, some nervous. Cosette widened her eyes, shocked that anyone would talk to even a sub like that. Her father would kill her if he found out she had done anything half as disrespectful. Courfeyrac stifled a laugh, while Marius looked genuinely scared. Courfeyrac almost felt bad for him before he remembered that he was pissed at him. 

"You know, lady, I really don't give a shit how I'm supposed to talk to a teacher." Mont let out a cold laugh, rising from his desk confidently. 

"What are you doing?" Éponine hissed. When they got in trouble together, there was always something it was worth the trouble for. This just seemed pointless. 

"Shut up, you useless skank." Mont spat. 

Éponine's mouth dropped open. Montparnasse had seen her father call her that multiple times. He had seen how her brave demeanor would falter, how her lips would quiver. He saw how she would quit fighting and storm off to her room, how she would lock her door and shut out her sister. And yet he spoke to her like that without a second thought.

Montparnasse clenched his jaw, ignoring her reaction even though he most definitely both saw and sensed it. The teacher was blabbering about respect and how she would send him to the office, but it all sounded like a monotonous drone.

Éponine stood up with a start, flashing her middle finger in Mont's face as she stormed out of the room.

The teacher had nothing to say, she just stood in shock. After that, Mont resigned and sat down, watching the door anxiously. He was aware that he had fucked up big time.

"Who was the student who just left the room?" The teacher asked, having never finished attendance for the sake of time.

"Éponine Thénardier," Courf called out with a slight smirk, sitting back in his seat. He would take any chance to get the bitch in trouble. 

"Thank you, Michel," She smiled, marking it down and picking up the phone. 

"Courf," Marius whispered, tapping his friend, who was faced away from him. 

"What do you want?" Courfeyrac sneered, always one to good grudges.

"You shouldn't have done that, dude. Why would you do that?" Marius looked distressed for his friend, eyeing the increasingly angry Mont in the back of the room. 

"Why wouldn't I? She's the devil, I'm telling you."

"Yeah, but she's gonna kill you. Or her boyfriend will." Marius's eyes were still warily on Montparnasse.

"He's not her boyfriend. Who the hell would be stupid enough to date her? And plus, it looked like he was pretty pissed at her just then, so I don't know if he's in the mood to defend her. And he shouldn't."

"Sorry, I'm just saying. Be careful."

"Why are you even taking to me?" Courfeyrac asked bitterly, "This morning you were acting like a capital-A asshole. And now you're acting like you're looking out for me."

"I'm sorry about this morning, okay? I don't expect you to understand." Marius frowned, picking at his cuticles furiously.

"Dude, I'm sorry. We can talk about this later." Courfeyrac felt sick. He had been such a bad friend. He should've known Marius was having a bad day, that he wasn't just being an asshole for the sake of it.

"It's okay. I don't really want to talk about it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah?"

\-------

It was the period before lunch, only forty minutes before the cast list would go up. Montparnasse, by now, was acutely aware of exactly how much he had fucked up. Éponine hadn't come to any classes since math, and he sat in remedial science waiting for her. 

She did decide to show up for that class period, right in the middle. Mont felt awkward, since her seat was right next to his. The teacher felt it was easier to deal with both of them at once. 

It was clear Éponine had gone home for a little while. Mont was just surprised she came back, and he didn't blame her for reeking of alcohol. He knew he had hurt her. 

"You're back," He whispered with a slight smile as she sat down sloppily. 

"Y-yup. Thought I should f-further my education." Éponine slurred with a lazy smile. Mont looked at her with concern. She usually didn't drink this much when she went to school. Usually, she'd just get buzzed so that everything would hurt a little less. But she was full-on wasted and Mont didn't know why she would do that when it would only end up with her in Javert's office. 

"Dude, how'd you get here? You don't have a car, and you couldn't drive anyways." Mont asked in a whisper, hoping not to draw attention to them. 

"Babet said 'e would drive me." Éponine shrugged, barely audible. 

"Why would you get in his car?" Mont asked, panicked. He was almost positive that the sleaze ball had taken advantage of her somehow. Fuck.

"I told'y. I wanted to come back." She giggled, going for a playful tap on the shoulder that was really quite rough.

"Did he do anything to you? Ép, did he do anything at all?" Mont placed a hand on her arm, trying desperately to read her dazed expression.

"I don't know, Mont. We hung out." She chuckled, running her hands through her hair sloppily.

"Fuck. Fuck. D'you wanna go home?" He sighed, grabbing her bony shoulders to steady her. "My home?"

"Why? I didn't come back 'ere for nothin'." She slurred, leaning away from him so far that she fell out of her seat.

As the whole class turned their heads towards them, Mont cleared his throat. "Excuse me, can I take her to the nurse? She's sick, she's got that bug going around."

The teacher looked skeptical but nodded anyways, opening the door for the two. Montparnasse slung her arm over his shoulder, sighing loudly as he lugged her down the hallway.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it." Mont tried, looking over his shoulder at her. Great. She was unconscious. 

They got some looks as they made their way down the hallway, but Mont was able to ignore them and get her into the car as soon as possible. He put her in as gently as he could, lying her down all the way in the back seat. 

In ten minutes, the cast list would be up. Montparnasse wouldn't be there to see it. He wouldn't even be in school, ironically. He was the one who'd asked Éponine to come in just for that reason. He didn't have a mother of father to hug him and congratulate him if he got a big part. He didn't even have any other friends. He knew she would make fun of him and give him shit, but he also knew she was his friend. And maybe he would get one congratulations, but only if she were there. And now he wasn't even there, just for her. Just to bring her home and make sure nobody at home messed with her. 

When she woke up nearly an hour later on his patched-up sofa, she was back to herself. And he was sitting a few feet away on his prized possession— a stolen recliner. 

"You're a fucking idiot, y'know that?" Mont chuckled slightly, kicking her softly.

"What exactly did I do to earn that title?" She raised an eyebrow, rubbing her head with a groan.

"You were so wasted, I had to take you here. And I missed them putting up the cast list." He sighed, fiddling with his perfect filed nails. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry." She winced, rubbing her temples with a wince. 

"I still heard about it. Musichetta sent my 'mother' an email." 

"And?" 

"I got Jafar." Mont announced, barely able to contain his grin. It had been exactly what he was hoping for. 

"No way," Éponine smiled, punching his shoulder lightly. "Good for you, kid." 

"I know." He smiled proudly. 

And that was exactly why he wanted Éponine to come in that day. 

\------------ 

Courfeyrac had tapped Cosette Tholomyes on the shoulder right before the cast list went up. 

"You want to check it together?" He asked charmingly, Marius trailing behind him with his eyes glued on Cosette. Jesus, he must've looked creepy, but he couldn't help it. 

Cosette's eyes were fixed on Marius too, and not only because he was staring at her. She felt compelled to get to know him. 

"I'd love to." She smiled, standing up and trailing behind Courfeyrac so that she could say hello to the dark-haired boy behind him. 

She got increasingly nervous as they got closer and closer to the back wall where a few kids were already crowding around the sheet of paper. 

Courfeyrac waited patiently, Marius and Cosette behind him, and grabbed the list when nobody else was using it. 

"Knew it!" He grinned, "Knew it, knew it! I will be playing the role of Aladdin! Ha! Yes! And Cosette, I have some bad news for you." He frowned slightly. 

"O-oh no." Cosette felt as if she would throw up. Now she knew. If she was lucky, she was in the ensemble. It was likely she hadn't gotten in. Her father was right, it was frivolous and stupid. 

"You'll be spending a lot of time after school. You're Jasmine! I knew it, I knew you'd get it!" He hugged her suddenly, leaving Marius in the back looking slightly bitter as he tried to get a look at the sheet in Courf's hand. 

"Congratulations, Cosette!" Marius smiled timidly, still trying to peek at the list. 

"Thank you, Marius. You got a part, too." Cosette smiled, looking away shyly as their eyes met. 

"What, villager number seven?" Marius asked with a sigh, still blushing from when their eyes had been locked for those few seconds. 

"No, dude," Courf looked at his friend with a bright smile. "You got Iago, the talking parrot. Basically you're Jafar's partner. And you've got some lines that'll make the audience laugh." 

"Great!" Marius smiled, feeling numb when he felt Cosette's arms thrown around him. Why would such a pretty girl hug him? She could've been hugging Courfeyrac again, but instead she decided to hug him. And she looked pretty damn happy about it. 

"But dude, I've got some bad news. You know you've gotta spend a lot of time with Jafar, right?" 

"Yeah. And?" 

"Jafar is Montparnasse." Courfeyrac rolled his eyes at the cast list, putting it back on the wall where it hung before. 

"Didn't he call you names last year for being in the play?" Marius furrowed his eyebrows, crossing to the table to get a closer look. It was true. 

"You're right. He did. Fucking hypocrite. Figures he's not here right now. I bet he doesn't even give a shit and there are kids who would've loved to play that part. Fuck him." Courf growled, looking at the list of crew members. He smiled when he saw Combeferre at the top, but he frowned as he saw perhaps his least favorite name down the list. 

"What the fuck is Éponine Thénardier doing here?" Courfeyrac scowled, looking down at the list disgustedly. "She's gonna ruin the mood of the whole damn cast." 

"They probably made her," Cosette piped up with a sigh. Her smile had only faded just then, her excitement had only dimmed when she was filled with fear—actual fear of his this five foot tall girl.

Still, that didn't discourage her for long. She couldn't believe she was the star. She hadn't had an opportunity like this in all of her life. Her father couldn't belittle this success, he couldn't demean her happiness. She was the lead, the one and only female lead. She squeaked with joy when she thought how proud her mother would be. She couldn't wait to get home, though she still had to get through two class periods. With another meaningful hug from Marius, much to her delight, she was off to science with an unfaltering good mood. Mostly, she couldn't wait to show her father that he was wrong for once.

\-----  
When Cosette got home she cheerfully called out for her mother. It was slightly disheartening when she didn't hear a response right away. Usually her mother would be sitting on the stiff leather couch, waiting eagerly to hear about cosettes day, or looking particularly invested in a book or a beauty magazine. 

"Mama?" She called again, setting down her heavy backpack. "Mama, are you there?" She went into the kitchen and didn't see her mother. Maybe she was taking a nap.

Cosette knocked tentatively at her mother's door, her stomach turning nervously.

"What? Who is it?" A soft voice called out, thick with tears.

"Mama? It's me, it's Cosette." Cosette pushed the door open slowly, filled with fear as she saw her mother hunched over on the bed with tissues surrounding her frail little body.

"Oh, Cosette. Sweet, sweet Cosette. Come here, darling." Fantine dropped her tissues and opened her arms for her daughter.

Cosette immediately panicked. What the hell was wrong? Had her father's mother died? What if her mother had cancer, or some other horrible disease. Sobs immediately exploded out of Cosette. 

"Mama? Mama, what's wrong?" She crawled childishly into her mother's arms, clinging to her mother's bony hand. 

"Oh, darling," Fantine kissed Cosette's head repeatedly, tears falling into Cosette's chestnut hair. "Your father—" 

"He's dead?" Cosette widened her eyes, feeling her whole body freeze up. She hadn't spoken to him before he left, and their last conversation was most likely a fight. Her own father, and he left her thinking she was a petulant brat. Her body was numb and her eyes stung, more tears refusing to fall. No. Not him. 

"No, baby, he's not dead," Fantine sniffled, weaving her nimble fingers through Cosette's hair, "He just...he doesn't want to be associated with us anymore. H-he has better things to do, apparently." 

"Oh," Was all that Cosette could manage to say. Anger built up inside of her. She had just felt sorry for this man, this man who'd left her mother crying in bed. Cosette wondered if he ever noticed just how deeply Fantine loved and cared for him. Would he be so heartless as to leave her when Fantine would be so heartbroken? 

"Baby, I'm sorry. It's all my fault." Fantine whispered into Cosette's hair, wiping the last of her tears. She had felt this coming on, but it hurt so very badly to learn that he would actually go through with it. 

"It's okay, mama. We'll get through without him. He didn't love us anyways." Cosette's expression became stoic. Her father only made her feel badly when he was there, so having him gone couldn't hurt, could it? 

"You're right, darling. You're really right." Fantine nodded, lifting her head proudly, "So tell me. School today, how was it?" She forced a small smile for Cosette.

Cosette's face brightened immediately. "Oh, wonderful, mama! I got the part, just like my biological father said I couldn't." She smiled proudly, hoping this would express to her mother just how disconnected she hoped to be from Félix. 

Fantine gasped, tightening her grip around Cosette. "Oh, baby! Oh, baby, I'm so proud! I knew you could do it, didn't I tell you? Didn't I tell you that you could be a star? Oh, baby! I can't wait to see it!" She decided to ignore Cosette's way of addressing Félix. She didn't blame the girl for resenting him. 

"I know, mama, I know. I just couldn't wait to tell you." 

"I'm just so proud of you."   
\-----


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some seriously scary things going down at the Thénardier place. WARNING: some trigger warnings apply for this chapter: suicide mention, depression, sexual harassment, rape, alcohol abuse, drug mention. If you're triggered by any of these things, it might be best for you to skip this chapter.

"You understand you're gonna have to go to rehearsal every day, right?" Éponine chuckled, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sat on Mont's couch.

"I do. And y'know, you've gotta go to rehearsals too. It's not like you have anything better to do." Mont laughed, lighting his own cigarette and Éponine's.

"Yeah, I do. I've got plenty to do. I'm a busy person." Éponine snarled, skillfully blowing out rings of smoke.

"No, you aren't. You know I've seen you out, right? I literally saw you in the supply room at your building writing in a notebook. So fucking busy." Mont cackled, kicking her roughly.

"Oh my fucking god, you creep! What, were you spying on me? What the fuck?" Éponine screeched, pulling off her boot and throwing it at his head with admirable aim.

"Calm down, Ép. Jesus!" He glared across the couch, "Don't be a bitch."

"I'm not a bitch. You're an asshole." Éponine spat, sending him a glare colder than his by far. "You know you're an asshole, right?" 

"Really? I'm an asshole? I don't really know if you're in any place to call me an asshole. Can you think of one other person in your life who even gives half a shit about you?" He barked, his face red, with veins pulsing in his neck visibly.

"Azelma," She answered slowly, taking a deep breath and looking away from him.

"No, she doesn't. She cares about her sister, and her sister could be fucking anyone. She cares about you because she has to. Hell, she doesn't even know you! You don't talk to her, you don't know her, and you obviously don't give a shit about her. There is only one person who gives a shit about you by choice, and who knows who you really are. There's only one person who'd come to your place at 2am because your dad came home wasted and started yelling at you. There's only one fucking person who would get suspended for weeks and show the teacher his ass to let you sneak out when you were stressed out. There's only one person who'd leave school on the only one day he wanted to be there to lug your drunk ass back to his apartment because he didn't want you to get hurt or in trouble or taken advantage of again. And that person sure as hell is not Azelma, and certainly not an asshole or anyone who you have the right to call an asshole. And that person knows he fucks up sometimes, okay? But it doesn't mean he doesn't care about you. He knows you need someone." By the time Montparnasse had yelled most all of this out, his voice was cracking on nearly every word. His face was no longer red, but purple. 

Éponine was silent for nearly a whole minute. Her jaw had dropped open involuntarily, but she shut it moments later. A myriad of emotions flashed over her paling face, her free hand clutching the arm of the couch. "That's really fucking good for you, Mont. By the way, calling me a useless skank is too big a fuck-up to be forgiven by some sappy speech about how nice you are to take pity on a girl who nobody else gives a shit about." Her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably. She heard him stammering something she couldn't quite understand, but it sounded like a drone to her. He was right. Nobody cared about her, nobody would care if she dropped off the face of the earth. In fact, some people would probably be glad. She could think of at least three, being her parents and the curly-haired kid in her math class. 

"That's not what I meant, Éponine." Mont frowned, placing a hand on her shaking shoulder gently. She pushed it off roughly, coming pretty damn close to sticking her blazing cigarette in his arm, but restrained herself a bit. She remembered how that had gone over with her sister. 

"And just what did you mean? That you're so fucking good to be my friend? It's not like I've never done anything for you. What about the time in ninth grade when you were fucked up in the head and did all those drugs and shit? And I was the only one who gave a damn and told you to stop, and I was the one who got punched in the jaw because I spent too much of my time doing all the shit you should've had a doctor do. Do you still maintain that you're only here because you feel sorry for me or something?" Éponine stood up quickly from the couch, her face now as purple as his. 

"That's exactly what I was trying to say, Ép. It's just you and me. Your parents don't care about you, my father killed my mother and himself in front of my fucking eyes when I was twelve. You've got a sister, but you're never gonna understand each other. You've got a brother you haven't seen in six months who you didn't give a single shit about anyways. I don't have any siblings. Neither of us have any other friends. Neither of us have ever connected with any teachers or some shit, or have any aunts or uncles or family friends. Are you really going to fuck up the one friendship you have because I made a mistake? A big mistake, but really a true mistake." Montparnasse spat with bitter intensity filling every word. 

"You're right, it was a big mistake. If you weren't the only person I didn't hate, I would never have spoken to you again. But I guess you're right. Neither of us've got anybody else. Which sucks, since I think I deserve a lot better." She chuckled slightly, sitting back down on the couch, her muscles relaxing a bit more. "Promise you won't say shit like that again."

"I'll promise I won't say shit like that again if you promise to stop saying that shit you always say," Mont smirked slightly, breathing a sigh of relief as she settled back down on the couch. He didn't want to be left alone after such a fight.

"What the hell are you going on about? What, does a little teasing bother you, little baby? Does it bother you when I call you a loser?" She laughed, putting her feet up on the scratched-up coffee table. 

"That's not what I meant," Mont rolled his eyes indignantly, kicking her feet off the table lightly. "I meant how you say creepy things about how you want to jump off a cliff and stuff. Don't say that shit." 

"I'll say what I want. I say what I mean. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable or something like that, but is it surprising that sometimes I'd rather die than cry myself to sleep or get looks at school like I'm a deadly disease? Wouldn't you?" She was slightly red, buying her head into her knees as she felt his eyes on her. 

"No, I don't want to die. I never considered it once, never felt the urge to pull the trigger. Things'll get better for us. Hell, it's high school! Anything could happen! We've still got our whole lives ahead of us, Ép. But, I s'pose you've got it harder than I do. I don't have to worry about being felt up by guys trusted by my father. I don't get the same looks at school. I mean, I'm too good looking! And you're too string to do that, 'Ponine. Too strong and too smart. You could do some really cool shit with your life, okay? Don't throw it away." 

Mont eyes remained on her, outlining her frail body, her slumped posture. Her hair was a matted mess with strands sticking up all over the place and an uneven cut. She sat with no grace, her arms hugging her legs tightly. Her jeans were ripped, and not even in the cute way that girls bought jeans like on purpose. They were not only so ripped they were barely present, but they were dirty and faded and looked as if they smelled like gas station bathrooms. There were enormous bags under her eyes. She looked as if she hadn't slept in ten years. Her lips had three separate cuts on them, all presumably from her parents or her natural clumsiness. Sunken cheeks stood out on her pale face, lined with dirt and a single bruise. He hadn't seen her smile genuinely for far too long, as her smile was bright despite her crooked yellowed teeth and lopsided lips. And yet, as he looked at her, he didn't see a dirty waif. He saw someone spectacular, someone who he couldn't live without. Somebody beautiful. 

"You're right. You've got it easier. You can give me the speech about having my whole life ahead of me, but you don't fucking understand. No matter what happens to you, you'll always like yourself. Hell, you love yourself. That's the difference between us. All I did when I was little was listen to my dear mommy. I listened when she told me that people who lived in low income housing were disgusting, when she told me that girls who wore braids in their hair were better than those who didn't. And when she started telling me that I was useless and ugly, once we lost the hotel, I believed her. She'd always been right before. Even now that I realize she's batshit crazy, I still know what she said is true. I'm ugly and useless and dumb and...and I don't deserve to think any differently." Fuck. Why was she acting so damn weak? She could feel hot tears streaming down her face, and they felt like shame. Mont didn't have to listen to her shit. 

"I'm smarter than your mother, I think we can both agree. That woman's lost her head. Personally, I blame your father but that's beside the point. You're not ugly, useless, or dumb. Ép, I understand that you don't believe me, and that this isn't something I can just turn around but I honestly think you're pretty great. Not to weird you out, but yeah. I get that this all looks pretty dark to you, but please don't kill yourself ever. Please." His eyebrows furrowed as he pleaded with her, making her realize just how sincere he was. 

"One person thinks that I'm not completely useless. Thanks I guess, but it doesn't help anything. Listen, can you just take me home? I don't want to talk about this anymore, and I wanna go to bed. I have a fucking headache." She stood up again, gesturing for him to follow as she approached the door. 

"Yeah, I think I know why you've got a headache. Speaking of the whole thing earlier today, do you remember what you told me?" He asked, standing up slowly. God, he had almost forgotten about what she'd revealed to him. And he hoped it wasn't true, but it honestly seemed pretty logical to him. How else would she have gotten to school when she was like that? 

"I remember nothing after you calling me a useless skank and me going home and having something to drink." Éponine shrugged, becoming increasingly nervous as she noticed his pained expression. 

"You don't remember how you got to school at all? You couldn't have walked. You don't have a car. Neither of your parents would take you, and Azelma obviously wouldn't leave school." They stepped out of the apartment, making their way down the hall slowly.

"What? Did you pick me up? If you're expecting a thank you, then thanks I guess."

"No, I didn't. I stayed in school and then took you home after you showed up smashed. You, uh, you told me that Babet took you. And I was worried that, y'know, he took advantage of you." He stammered, seeing the realization dawn on her. 

"Oh my fucking god," She stopped suddenly, "Oh shit, oh shit. Now I really want to die." Her breathing quickly became uneven, coming out in short ragged breaths. If they weren't already a good distance from Mont's locked apartment, he would've gotten her a paper bag to breathe in. She looked as if she needed it. 

"Ép? Ép, it's okay. It's happened, it's over. Nothin' to die over." He kept a slight distance from her, not sure if crowding her would benefit her at all. When she didn't respond, he tried again. "Éponine? Éponine? Please, Ép. Come on, I'll take you home." 

"Y-you don't understand. N-no. He's going to be there. He...he's going to be waiting. I'm going to throw up. Fuck. I am going to throw up right now. He's going to tell my father and the other guys and they're not ever gonna stop talking about it. Please kill me. Punch me in the jugular, I'm begging you." She had become even paler, her frail frame looking more childish and helpless than ever. 

"I won't take you home if you don't want to go. I'm certainly not killing you." He helped her stand up, putting a bracing arm around her shoulder, starting to feel faint himself because of her fear. 

"As much as I'm dreading it, my father'd literally kill me if I spent too long away from home. S-says he needs me." She responded, her voice shaking so that her words were hardly audible. 

"I'll stay with you, if you'd like. If your father doesn't notice me, that is." Mont sighed, leading her down the hallway slowly. 

"That sounds good. T-thank you." 

Once they arrived at the Thénardier family's apartment complex, it was clear that none of the father's friends were there—other than Babet. Éponine threw up out the window, leaving an unpleasant surprise for the owner of a run-down Toyota. 

"Are you sure you've absolutely got to go in there?" Montparnasse glanced at her, his eyes filled with concern. 

She nodded slowly, gulping loudly. She couldn't begin to imagine all the terrible things that he would say. Oh, fuck. He would be completely without a filter, as per usual. 

Montparnasse remained a few steps ahead of Éponine as they made their way to the dank little apartment, their hands joined for her comfort. 

"Okay, we're here. Do you want me to open the door?" Mont frowned, placing his hand gently on the doorknob. "Are you ready?" 

"Y-yeah. I'm not some kind of child, Mont. Open the door." She lifted her head defiantly, figuring that if she faked confidence long enough it might become real. 

Mont opened the door slowly to reveal Thénardier and Babet sitting on fold-up chairs with beers in their grimy hands. 

Babet grinned immediately, causing Éponine's stomach to do a billion backflips, or so it seemed.

"I s'pose you'd like to finish what we started this morning, eh?" He rose from his chair, stumbling over to the terrified Éponine.

"No, I do not." She answered, trying to hide the uncontrollable shaking of her voice. "Get away from me, Babet."

"Ey, you know you want it, baby. You know how much you enjoyed it this morning, yeah? I don't think I've ever gotten that much from you, if you know sang I mean. I'd never had it...had it all." He flashed a rotting grin.

Mont started to step forward, but Éponine shook her head at him. She could handle it. "I-I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

"I like you better when you've had a l'il somethin' to drink. Here, follow me to the kitchen, sugar." He placed a grubby hand on her arm, gyrating his hips as they gradually moved closer to hers.

"Get the fuck away from me," Éponine spat, elbowing him in the chest.

"You little slut," Her father interjected, standing up unsteadily, "You skank! Don't act like y'don't like it. Babet here told me everythin'. Sounds like you was moaning his name, like you was being a useful little thing for once and satisfying his needs." He placed a bony hand on his daughter's shoulder, laughing in his wheezy way. 

She looked as if she was about to pass out, Mont observed. But he knew she would feel better handling it herself. She only wanted him there for moral support.

"I'm going to my room." She muttered, starting for her room with Mont behind.

"Just wait one damn moment, kid!" Her father called, his voice suddenly becoming cold. "You can't just lead a man on and not give him what he wants. You gotta give him a little somethin'...or else." He winked, but he didn't smile. Éponine's heart felt as if if was going to stop.

It had never been this bad.

"No means no," Éponine growled, turning around and walking towards her room, faster this time.

Her father lunged forward, letting out sort of a growling sound as he grabbed Éponine's shoulder roughly, rougher than a father should ever handle his slip of a daughter. "You don't say no to me. I'm your papa." 

Éponine was breathing heavily, her expression turning from fear to rage in one flashing moment. "Don't fucking touch me! You're not allowed to call yourself my papa. A papa can't be an abusive asshole." She didn't think how much she would regret her next action, instead going right for a knee to his crotch. He let out a low, terrifyingly dark growl. 

"You go give Uncle Babet what he wants, y'hear? And you will pay for that later, you useless skank. I am your papa, and you don't do that to your papa." Thénardier snarled, grabbing her wrists so that she couldn't escape his grip. 

"Thénardier—" Mont cut in, pulling out his knife if it should be needed. He was well aware that Éponine was an independent woman, and that she wanted to and most certainly could deal with this herself, but still, it hurt him to watch her be shoved around and abused just for saying no to a creepy rapist who'd been trailing her since she was thirteen. He had seen the way she'd go pale whenever he saw him, and now her father was forcing him on her. He'd be a horrible friend if he didn't do something—anything. 

"Shut up, kid. Can't you see we're trying to deal with adult affairs?" He responded with a low chuckle, pulling his daughter towards the grinning pervert. "Why don't you just go? We don't need you right now, and you're only distracting the slut." 

"I'm not leaving, Thénardier." Mont cleared his throat, ready to lunge at the man at any given moment. He had absolutely no qualms about finishing him off, what with the rage inside of him. 

"I'll hurt you, kid. I'll hurt you more than you could hurt me with your little butter knife piece of shit. Get out. That's an order." Thénardier glowered at Montparnasse, his grip tightening around his daughter's wrists. 

"Just go, Mont. I can...I can handle this by myself." Éponine murmured, tears brimming her hazel eyes. Mont could tell she wasn't just saying it to get her father off her back. She meant it. She wouldn't give him the chance to protect her. 

"If you're sure, I'm out." Mont sighed, stuffing his knife back into his pocket, his gaze stuck on the struggling Éponine. He gave one last resigned sigh before stepping out of the apartment and slamming the door behind him. 

"Good, now that he's gone, we can get this done already, m'dear." Babet stepped closer to Éponine, stroking her chin with his grimy, meaty fingers. 

"Are you going to make him happy, or is this gonna be hard on the both of ya?" Thénardier asked with a sickening little grin, leaning in so close to his daughter's face that his foul breath nearly knocked her out. 

"I'll do it if I can have something to drink first." She whispered finally, figuring there was no way out. Her father wasn't one to give up, he wouldn't resign and let her go off to her room. He would hurt her if he had to, but he wouldn't kill her. He wouldn't put her out of her misery. 

The men saw no problem with this and let Éponine have exactly two minutes to do whatever she liked before it was time for her to "see Babet in papa's room". She was glad Mont wasn't present to see it, as she couldn't stand being worried about. If she was drunk, it wouldn't be as painful. She'd still feel like shit for the rest of her life most likely, but she wouldn't lose an eyeball or something of the like. 

She'd kissed him before. There had been a particular time where her father decided it was only fair. And that time she was completely sober and it was disgusting, terrifying and degrading. It was also her first kiss, which seemed a bit disappointing to her. Everybody had their cute, sometimes adorably awkward first kiss stories, and her first kiss had been against the door of her father's bedroom with a pervert who had been stalking her for three years at that time. Éponine had recently found out that her little sister had witnessed it, and that was humiliating as well. Little sisters were supposed to look up to their big sisters, but Éponine couldn't expect Azelma to aspire to be a slut without her dignity. Who would want to be like that? 

But now, now she knew it was going to go all the way. According to Babet, it had gone all the way that morning. God, she hated herself. If she hadn't come home and gotten loaded, none of this would've happened. 

When she was sufficiently drunk, so drunk that she felt about to pass out, she stumbled into the bedroom where the two were waiting. She felt no longer scared, she felt nothing really—the reason why she drank so frequently. 

"You ready, you pretty little thing?" Babet grinned—in rare form. It seemed that he had completely sobered up. It didn't make him any less creepy, but perhaps he would have some more limits. 

Éponine staggered over to the bed, a lazy smile spreading across her cut lips. Ah, nothing was a good feeling. "I'm r-ready, c'tie. C'mere." She crooned, her words as close to inaudible as they could be. 

"It seems everything is going well. I think I'll, ah, leave you two alone." Thénardier grinned. He cackled as he sent a wink in his friend's direction on his way out of the room. 

Hours later, Babet and Thénardier had gone off to crawl around in the night as per usual. Éponine had been left unconscious in her father's bed, her clothes on the floor and with a pilly blanket covering her little body. When she woke up, she was sore all over, so sore she couldn't move without wincing. She had barely any recollection of what happened, but her aching head, dry mouth and naked body got her somewhere.

Once she had gathered bits and pieces of her memory, she felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. Hard. This was exactly why her father called her a slut. Now she knew she would never get anywhere, get a job even. Who would hire a girl who voluntarily slept with her father's seedy friend? With the figurative punch in the gut came the tears. 

She curled up in the creaky bed, her loud sobs muffled by a cheap, yellowing pillow which reeked of liquor and the cheap cigars her father had always smoked. Why had she been so stupid? Why hadn't she just insisted that she wasn't going to do it? Surely, she would've gotten in trouble but it couldn't have been as bad as the shame and self-disgust that engulfed her. 

She was so damn vulnerable, she was so damn weak. Of course she found herself dialing Mont's number. Of course she was so weak as to call him in the middle of the night on a school night. He picked up on the first ring, anyways. 

"Éponine? Is everything okay?" Mont barked into the phone. His tone was lined with worry and fear. 

"No. No it's not fucking okay," Éponine answered through her tears, shaking as she did so, "I had to do it, Mont. He would've hurt me so bad. So bad, Mont." 

"Sh, it's okay. It's okay. Of course you had no other choice, Ép. I get it, I get it. I'm coming over there and picking you up. You're not safe over there, Éponine." He frowned, hanging up immediately and not even bothering to lock his apartment as he stormed down the hallway. 

He arrived to her apartment minutes later, calling her name loudly, not considering that Thénardier might be home and hear. He wasn't, anyways. 

"I'm in here," She called back, her voice thick with tears. So much for trying to hide it, trying not to be a weak little skank for once. 

"O-oh my god." He stopped short in the doorway as he noticed her state, "Do you think you could maybe put on some clothes and then I could take you?" 

She nodded slowly, closing the door as she threw on the clothes she had dropped on the floor, neglecting her bra and underpants completely. 

"I'm really sorry, Ép. I'll take you to my place, you won't be here when they get home." He lead her down the hallway, sticking back to match her slow, sluggish strides. 

"Thanks, Mont. I'm just so fucking weak and I'm scared. Sorry." She whispered, following with her head bowed. 

"Don't you ever say your sorry for wanting to get out of there. You don't deserve any of that shit, okay? I swear, I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill both of them." His eyes flashed with a rage she had never seen before. 

"I wouldn't be opposed to that." She replied, her lopsided smile coming back for a split second.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventures at school and such. Not a chapter with any big reveals, more build up! Sorry!

Even after their heartfelt discussion, everything felt wrong at the Tholomyes house. Fantine was happy for Cosette, she nearly cried tears of joy. Still, Cosette thought it best to leave her mother alone so that she could process what had happened that day. 

Cosette spent much of that evening feeling guilty. Wasn't she supposed to be upset about her father abandoning her? Wasn't it supposed to break her heart and prompt her to write depressing poetry? She wanted to be able to support her mother, to comfort her, to suffer with her. But she couldn't bring herself to give a damn. For one thing, he was at work so often that they barely saw him anyways. When they did see him, he was in an awful mood and possibly drunk. He wasn't any kinder when he was drunk, either. If anything, he was crueler. And he hadn't said one sincerely nice thing to Cosette for as long as she could remember. The closest thing to him being nice to her was him shrugging when he saw her report card instead if tearing it up and screaming at her. 

But was he really gone this time? Or was he going to come back in a year telling Fantine that he was sorry and that they could move back into the mansion and out of the creepy apartment building. She hoped he wouldn't, as she'd rather move back to the creepy apartment building than live with him. 

She was proud of herself, though, for not shedding a single tear for her father. Instead, a bright grin lit up her heart-shaped face. Everything would be okay now. 

She sat in the living room listening to the playlist entitled "good vibes" on her iPod until her mother stepped into the room timidly.

"He's not picking up his phone," Fantine spoke loudly to be heard over the music, "He's gone, baby. He won't hurt us anymore." Her face was dry, she hadn't cried much since Cosette had left her alone.

"I'm glad you can see it that way now," Cosette said with a small smile, pulling out her headphones. "He wasn't good for us, mama. All he did was yell and limit us and tell us we weren't good enough."

"You're right, sweetheart. And we are good enough, and...and I think we're better off without him. It'll be hard, but we're gonna be okay. Unfortunately, we'll have to move back into that apartment complex on Main Street. The school bus doesn't go over there, remember? It'll be an adjustment." Fantine sighed, looking at her lap with tired eyes. She wished they could stay in the beautifully ornate mansion on a secluded, safe street, but they didn't have the money with Félix gone. Fantine would obviously have to get a job of her own. She wanted to anyways, but Félix wouldn't permit it.

"The apartment building is better than staying here with him. I'm glad he's gone. I've been waiting for him to leave again since I was six and he hit me for failing a spelling quiz."

Fantine frowned. "Oh, baby. You've been through so much, but it's over now. If he tries to come back this time, we'll lock up all the doors." She pulled her petite daughter into her arms, running her long fingers through her smooth hair.

"I know, mama. I know." She settled into her mother's arms, falling asleep just moments later.

\------

The next day at school, Courfeyrac was riding high. He got congratulated more times than he could count; he was congratulated by classmates, teachers, the ladies who worked in the office and made the morning announcements—everyone. Of course the labor would be worth it. The compliments and congratulations were only his second favorite part, second of course to the rush of being onstage and the sea of applause from the vast audience. 

"I'm the star! And it feels great," Courfeyrac grinned as he made his way to first period math with Marius beside him. "Hey, you've got a good amount of lines too! Of course, you are gonna have to walk with Montparnasse for the whole damn show."

"Yeah, I know," Marius shrugged looking slightly discouraged, "but he can't kill me onstage, can he? He wouldn't, I mean." 

"True," Courfeyrac chuckled, smiling brightly at another congratulations coming from a cute junior girl. "He'll probably end up dropping out anyways. My dad always says kids like that can't keep commitments. Speaking of my dad, he said you could sleep over tonight even though it's a school night." 

Marius smiled slightly, seeming a bit dazed. It wasn't one of his usual depressed hazes, instead a lazy smile permanently pulled at his lips. "That's good." 

"Just good, Marius? We can stay up all night and play video games and read my dad's magazines. I just found, like, eight of them. You okay, dude?" Courfeyrac looked at his friend with concern. 

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm on top of the world, Courf! I'm in love!" He breathed with a goofy smile, his eyes unfocused.

"With Cosette, I'm assuming?" Courfeyrac chuckled, nudging Marius's shoulder. 

Marius nodded enthusiastically, allowing himself to fall into a locker after Courf's light nudge. He really wasn't watching where he was going. "Do you think she loves me as I love her?"

"I don't know, dude. I can ask her if you want." Courfeyrac shrugged, opening the door for Marius to the math room.

"If you don't think that would be too awkward, please do! Please!" Marius grinned, plopping down in his seat next to Courfeyrac's.

Cosette was usually early for math class, coming in before school even started to have extra help time with Mr. Fauchelevent. She wasn't in her seat when Marius looked over, and Mr. Fauchelevent was sitting at his desk alone.

Surprisingly, both Montparnasse and Éponine had showed up two days in a row. They sluggishly walked into the classroom side by side only minutes after Courfeyrac and Marius.

Courfeyrac sent a glare her way and was surprised that he got nothing in return. "Hm. I think she's in a particularly genial mood today, Pontmercy. She's probably high or something." He let out a laugh that was louder than he intended.

"Whatever. Cosette's not here, did you notice? Do you know where she is?"

"No. She's probably sick or something, dude. Calm down."

In the back of the classroom, Montparnasse and Éponine were quieter than usual. They weren't laughing loudly at their surroundings or even whispering to each other with cruel-looking smirks.

They waited until class started to start whispering to each other, but their smirks were nonexistent.

"You okay, Ép? Are you sure you want to be here?" Mont whispered, his eyes full of concern. He was in rare form, indeed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's fine, I want to be here. Don't talk to me like I'm fucking five." Éponine hissed back, turning away from him indignantly and trying in vain to focus and get ready to take notes.

"Éponine, come on. Don't shut me out."

"Shut the fuck up."

He took the hint.

"I apologize for my absence yesterday," Mr. Fauchelevent started, clearing his throat, "Unfortunately, the report from the substitute was not too favorable. Take out your notes on section 9.5 and finish the odd-numbered problems on page one. Could I see Éponine and Montparnasse up here?"

Courfeyrac giggled under his breath, ignoring the glares from Montparnasse and the teacher.

"What do you want?" Montparnasse scowled as they reached the desk, Éponine following behind him slowly.

"I'd like to speak with you two about what happened yesterday with the substitute teacher. I cannot believe that you would behave like that. Montparnasse, you swore at her and acted out? And Éponine, you just walked out of the classroom? I—you two do you understand that this is not acceptable behavior? You could be suspended for something like this! Do you two have no regard for respect?" Fauchelevent looked positively pissed. He was bright red, they had never seen him so angry. He usually seemed calm, simply asking them firmly yet softly to stop if they were acting out.

"That's not true," Éponine spoke up, putting on a fake angry expression, "That woman is a liar! Fu—I mean, gosh! I went to the bathroom for two minutes without asking her and she freaked out. Yeah, Mont swore, but it wasn't directed at her. He's eighteen years old, it's not the end of the world." Once she was finished, she cleared her throat unsurely. 

Mr. Fauchelevent looked slightly skeptical but he was tired and let them sit down anyways without another word. Montparnasse thanked Éponine under his breath and they were silent for the remainder of the period. He didn't want to set her off and she didn't much feel like talking to anyone.

\------

By Wednesday, two days after the cast list was out, Courfeyrac was obviously excited for the play and rehearsals, but he had come off of the cast list buzz and was basically back to normal life. So that meant it was time for him to set up his best friend and that cute little brunette who he'd share a legendary duet with. He was thrilled that his friend finally had a crush—though it seemed like more than that, even— because it seemed as if Marius never ever had any crushes. Courfeyrac was chatting about a new attractive person every five minutes, but Marius never gave any girl a second glance. Courfeyrac had thought that maybe he was in the closet, and that made him slightly sad. He didn't want Marius to feel like he couldn't talk to him about stuff like this. Courfeyrac was an openly bisexual guy himself and hoped he didn't do anything to put Marius off about coming out. 

It turned out that, probably, he was just waiting for the right person. Courfeyrac was sure that this person was Cosette, and he was determined to help these two live happily ever after. He had always called himself the love doctor, much to Marius's embarrassment. Now he could really use this god-given skill he was sure he possessed. 

The plan was to talk to Marius and Cosette separately after math class, pull them into one big conversation and then walk away. He was a little worried that Marius would just get nervous and walk away as well, but it was the only idea that he could come up with at the moment. 

He was giddy as he thought of the possibility of Marius and Cosette being a couple. They would be adorable, even sickeningly so. He walked to math class alone, dismissing Marius's absence because of his excitement—he was probably just late, and the only thing that mattered was that he was present after class so that Courf could work his magic.

As the class period wore on, he unfortunately noticed that neither Marius nor Cosette was there, in fact the class seemed pretty empty in general. They were gone, Éponine and Montparnasse were gone— though that was not at all an uncommon occurrence—and the teacher didn't seem to give the attendance list a second glance. Now Courfeyrac's plan was foiled and he was going to be lonely and have to get through math class anyways. He let out a groan and took out his materials, considering the possibility of actually doing math. 

He was slightly mopey when he sluggishly walked out of the classroom, but he became even more so when he saw Marius casually conversing with someone who he couldn't see due to a locker obstructing his view. He looked slightly uncomfortable, Courfeyrac noticed, but he could really only focus on how fucking pissed he was that Marius had left him for dead (of course, Courfeyrac always had a tendency to become overly dramatic). 

"Marius!" Courfeyrac stalked over to him only to find he was talking to, in his opinion, the shittiest piece of shit to ever exist. She looked different, though, vulnerable. Her face was blotchy and her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. Why the hell was she talking to Marius? "What are you doing, dude?" 

"Um, nothing," Marius muttered, turning quickly on his heel and following Courfeyrac to the boy's bathroom without a second glance towards Éponine. 

"Ép?" Mont squinted, shaking her lightly. "Um, what are you doing? Making friends?" He chuckled, starting down the hallway with her following close behind. He'd sat with her in the back of the library for the whole of first period to calm her down and he'd wondered how he'd suddenly lost track of her. But why would she stand through a conversation with Marius Pontmercy without becoming murderous? 

"Oh, shut up," She rolled her eyes, her laugh sounding thin and artificial. "He's s'posed to be my math tutor or some shit—apparently he gets good grades and so they put a couple of dumb kids in a 'study group' with him. Including me. How come they didn't put you in?" 

"Don't know. Probably scared I'll shank 'em." Mont smirked, wondering how Éponine could go so quickly from hyperventilating in the library to making jokes and smiling with at least a pinch of genuine amusement. 

"Doubtful," She teased, "It's probably cause you're a fucking loser who actually gets, like, B's in math. I'm sure you go home and study, you big bad thug." 

"Maybe I'm just naturally intelligent. Not too hard to believe. It's really too bad they didn't put me in the math study group—I could have helped the dumb kids, I could have teamed up with Pontmercy to teach you." When he spoke Marius's name, he raised his voice about three octaves and flung his hands around mockingly. 

"I've never seen Marius do that with his hands. And hey, it's not just me. There's another girl in it too." 

"Who?" 

"Cosette, the one who always sits in the front and practically sits on Fauchelevent's lap. Y'know her?" 

"I know of her," Mont shrugged, "She's cute, and she seems pretty smart—she's in AP English. Maybe she's s'posed to be a guide too, and you're the only dumb kid?"

"Shut up," She rolled her eyes, laughing, "And I'm pretty sure she just sucks at math. Either that or she's got her eyes on an older model..." 

"You're disgusting, kid. When does your little study group start?" 

"Tomorrow after school. Fuck. This is not how I want to spend my time, but apparently it's fucking mandatory. Fuck Fauchelevent." Éponine groaned, plopping down at her normal spot in the court yard, as it was her self-assigned free period and Mont's as well.

"It's not like you have better plans. Thursday's your day for sitting in your room brooding, is it not?" Mont teased.

"Yeah, I know. I'd rather spend my time brooding than doing work. At least maybe I'll end up not failing the class after all, I guess." Éponine pulled out a couple cigarettes and passed one to Mont. She stuck her hand out, knowing he always carried a lighter while hers had been confiscated by Javert recently.

"Wow, look at that motivation. Inspiring, really." He grinned as he lit up, straightening his stark black leather jacket. "Y'know, nobody's gonna hire you if you don't get into college and you're gonna be poor as fuck. And I'm not giving you any of my fortune."

"Your fortune," She repeated incredulously, leaning into the wall nonchalantly. "Believe me, I wouldn't dream of making a dent in your little fortune." 

"It ain't gonna be a little fortune, m'dear. I s'pose I wouldn't expect you to understand. It's a bit over your little head." Mont smirked, knowing how this would get on her nerves. 

"Whatever you say, Mont. Whatever you say." 

\---------

"Dude, what the hell was that?" Courfeyrac exclaimed once he shut the bathroom door behind him, gesturing wildly at the slightly irritated Marius. 

"What was what? I don't understand what you're talking about." Marius replied, his eyebrows furrowed. 

"Why did you skip out on math and instead choose to spend your time chatting up the devil?" Courfeyrac was seemingly oblivious to how overly dramatic he was being, but then again, that wasn't uncommon. "I had a plan and everything!" 

"Courf, your plans are great and all, but I had other stuff to do. And I had to talk to Éponine. Mr. Fauchelevent is making me tutor her or something. I don't know. She knows more than I do—but anyways, sorry." Marius seemed distracted by the end of his explanation, his eyes fixated lazily on the soap dispenser. 

"Dude, that sucks. I'm warning you, tell her that her answers are right, even if she says two times two is twelve—which wouldn't surprise me—or else she'll pull a knife on you or something. Or, or push you off the damn monkey bars and put you in a cast for three months! I'll never forgive her for that, by the way." Courf looked genuinely grumpy over the long-over feud, which made Marius chuckle even in his distracted state. 

"She's not a psychopath. She's just a little misguided, and you know she's got actual issues and you probably shouldn't be so mean. You know, I saw her in the library and she looked like she was crying. I feel sorry for her, Courf. She seems so sad." 

"I call bull shit," Courf muttered bitterly, refusing to acknowledge that he was most likely being a total asshole, "She's fine, I'm telling you. Believe me, I can read people, okay? She was probably plotting murder or something. You don't know about these things, I do." 

"I think you're being immature. I've got history with Cosette now, so if you'll excuse me, I'm out." Without another word, Marius turned away from his fuming friend, someone who so rarely hated or even disliked anyone that his attitude towards Éponine was almost scary. 

Maybe he just didn't want to own up to the fact that he was most likely wrong about her being a completely psychopathic bitch. He knew she most likely had some formidable problems, more than he could imagine. He'd heard the rumors, which were an odd type of rumor as everybody was terrified what would happen if she found out. 

There were some he thought to be completely false though; the one about her killing her own mother (he'd seen her with her mother back in third grade and while he never saw them together, he'd seen her mother around and that was not a face one would forget, unfortunately), and the extremely preposterous one about her supposed affair with her ninth grade history teacher (that was just plain ridiculous). 

But he knew for a fact that she lived in that one gross apartment building that kids sometimes dared each other to touch, and he was pretty damn sure that the rumors about her and her creepy sidekick selling drugs were true. He'd heard the speculations about why she spent so much time in the guidance office and why she came to school drunk more often than not. Those were probably supposed to make him feel sorry for her, but he could not bring himself to.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac is sick and tired of watching Marius and Cosette drool over each other and basically everyone but Éponine and Courfeyrac enjoy the first read through for Aladdin

Friday afternoon was the "read through", much to Cosette's, Courfeyrac's, Marius's and Montparnasse's excitement—and Éponine's dismay. Apparently, the crew members needed to be present. She wasn't sure that it was so necessary, but Mont convinced her that skipping would get her in more trouble than she was already in. With all the shit Javert found in their lockers, they were already in pretty deep trouble. Their lockers got checked every day both before and after school, the school started making every kid take pee tests in gym class and they had the guidance counselor on their asses anyways.

Cosette was beyond excited, and she was buzzing when she met up with Courf and Marius in the hallway.

"Hello, Cosette," Marius greeted timidly, blushing profusely but clearly proud of himself for having the courage to say hello first. Cosette smiled broadly and gave a hello back. Courf was honestly a little ticked off that he'd be all alone, but he remembered how lonely Marius always seemed and how adorable the pair was together.

"Are you excited? I-I'm sure you'll do amazing." Marius whispered, not quite realizing how low his voice was. He was visibly shaking, and Cosette thought it was absolutely adorable.

"Thanks, Marius! I'm sure you will, too. And I'm so excited! My mother is so ridiculous, though, she wants to watch it!" She laughed in a lilting, pretty way as they continued towards the auditorium.

"I don't see why she can't—I mean, unless you don't want her to. I guess I, uh, I can see that. She's nice, huh?" Marius was red as a tomato, sputtering out each word as if it pained him to do so.

"Yes, she's very nice." Cosette smiled, taking a slight step closer to him. Her father would be pissed, but then again he wasn't there to lower her self-esteem anymore. "I just think it would be embarrassing and everyone would wonder why some weird kid invited their mom, you know?"

"Yeah, I see. I'd maybe like meet your mother though, sometime—I mean...um"

Courfeyrac, who was lagging behind slightly, grinned at his friend's accidental momentary smoothness. He whistled softly under his breath.

"I'd like that." Cosette smiled shyly, her eyes glued on the boy's sweet face. Gosh, she couldn't stop looking at him! She'd never had a crush on any other boys, but this one...he was different. He was nothing like the other misogynistic, jerky boys in her grade. He was sweet by nature and polite and handsome and sincere.

"Alright, alright," Courf pushed between the couple with a goofy smile on his face, "I cannot watch this weird awkward flirting thing for another second. You both like each other, yeah? Quite a lot, I'm assuming?"

"Courf—" Marius's eyes widened and, if it was humanly possible, he was redder than before, purple even. He stopped short in the hallway. 

"You'll thank me—" Courf was cut off. 

"I agree," Cosette cleared her throat loudly, unexpectedly, "I, um, I like you a lot, Marius..."

"Now." Courfeyrac ended his statement with a large grin, stepping back to watch with admiration as Cosette and Marius shared a meaningful glance.

Courfeyrac and Cosette almost continued towards the auditorium when they realized that the poor kid was passed out on the floor.

Cosette gasped. "Marius!"

Courfeyrac stifled a laugh. "He's fine, he's fine. Let him shake it off."

"He's out cold!" Cosette exclaimed, holding his pale head on her lap. "Poor thing. Do you think this is all too much for him? Do you think he doesn't actually like me?" The last part came in a whisper. Had she just—with Courfeyrac's help—completely humiliated herself in front of the boy she was madly in love with?

"Cosette," Courf let out an incredulous snort, "He declared to me that he's in love. He told me he's been floating on clouds since he met you or some shit like that. Cosette, don't put yourself down, seriously. He's all over you." He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Marius came to, grinning immediately as he saw Cosette fretting above him. "Hello. Why am I on the ground?" He asked weakly, his face visibly lighting up as she took his hand in hers.

Cosette giggled slightly. "You fainted, Marius! Courfeyrac just kind of set us up—and I said yes..."

"I say yes, too, Cosette! I say yes!" He was bursting with excitement, so much excitement that he shot up before he was fully recovered and fell back down into her arms.

She kissed his forehead softly, not noticing Courf's confused stares.

"Whatever. I'll leave you lovebirds alone. Meanwhile, I'm going to rehearsal. Yeah, rehearsal! Remember that?" Courf stood up, walking away regardless of the fact that the couple didn't seem to hear him. They were too lost in each other's eyes.

"How did Pontmercy get with someone before me?" He muttered to himself as he sauntered down the hallway.

–——

"Excuse me, miss, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak so loudly of your disdain for this event, considering there are others who've attended for their own enjoyment." Combeferre informed the brooding brunette before him. He had been quite excited for this day to come—the first rehearsal for this year's musical, his favorite part of the entire school year. He didn't need this snotty brat ruining it for him and everyone around him. 

"I'd appreciate it if you got out of my face." Éponine answered under her breath, not currently able to come up with any biting comebacks. She didn't want to be there, what reason did she have to pretend like she did? 

"Oh, really? Well, I'll get out of your face once you stop acting rude and inconsiderate." He answered, pushing his sleeves up intimidatingly. "If you don't want to be here, why don't you just leave?" He eyed her sidekick surprisedly. Usually, he would be fighting on Éponine's side. Combeferre had it seen it happen in gym class a number of times. He was completely silent, not even facing the argument.

"Oh believe me, I would leave if I could." Éponine snarled, rising a bit in her seat as she felt threatened. "I'm being kept here by force and it's completely unfair. I'll complain all I want, thank you very much."

"I don't intend to be 'that kid', but it seems you're on my last nerve. If it's Principal Javert keeping you here, I intend to tell him about your behavior if it doesn't stop!" Combeferre narrowed his eyes at the irritating little brat. Considering that she was in his grade, she didn't quite appreciate his superiority complex. 

"Really? Really?" She popped right out of her seat and pointed a bony finger in his face. "I swear to fucking god, kid—I will make your life a living hell if you don't keep your mouth shut—"

"Fuck you, Éponine." Courfeyrac scowled as he plopped into a seat behind her, already in a foul mood for some odd reason. He should've been happy that Marius and Cosette were together, but he felt pretty damn bitter. 

"My sentiments exactly." Combeferre agreed with a slight nod and a smile in Courfeyrac's direction. Courf was surprised to see the guy acting so cold, not that he thought Éponine didn't have it coming. Usually, Combeferre's icy best friend, Enjolras, was the one spewing insults. Combeferre usually did damage control, being a sweet guy and a rational one, too. "I take it you two know each other well?" He noticed the glares Courf and Éponine were exchanging. 

"Unfortunately," Courfeyrac returned, his glare turning into a friendly smile as he faced Combeferre. "She's been a total asshole to me since—when was it, Éponine? Fucking third grade?" 

"Fuck, Courfeyrac, I don't know!" Éponine spat, raising her voice, "I don't have so much free time that I keep a fucking journal of every time an elementary school student wronged me." 

"What kind of activities do you occupy yourself with then, Éponine?" Combeferre asked, his tone lied with irritation. 

"None of your business." Was her incredibly uncreative answer. 

"Killing brain cells in various ways, I take it." Courfeyrac muttered under his breath, giving Combeferre a look. 

"Ah, I see," Combeferre nodded with a slight smile, smiling at Courfeyrac one last time before he headed for the soundboard. Musichetta had just entered, her face completely lit up with excitement. 

"Hello, students!" She called with a wide grin, taking a seat on the edge of the stage. She was clad in a long, flowered skirt and a simple white top, her wild dark curls spilling down her shoulders. "Now, who's ready to get to work—after a few words, of course!" 

She went on to repeat the same ground rules Courf had been listening closely to for his whole high school career. He could practically mouth the words along with her. Then, it was time for her whole speech on how much fun they were all going to have and how they would become like family and other things that bored Éponine half to death. She was annoyed when she noticed that Montparnasse was paying full attention to this shit. 

"Without further adieu, let us begin!" Musichetta declared dramatically, opening her script with dramatic emphasis and smiling kindly as she listened to the narrator begin the show. 

Of course, when it was Courf's turn to speak, he was amazing and as was Cosette. She had decided to show up apparently, Courf noticed with slight annoyance. Marius sat beside her and Courfeyrac was almost positive that Marius did not once take his eyes off of the blushing Cosette. Fuck, they were so in love it was annoying. When it came time for Marius to deliver one of his lines, he missed his cue completely and Cosette had to direct his eyes to his script. 

"I can't believe we just started going out today." Cosette whispered to him with a grin, getting in the sweet words quickly so as not to miss her next line. Courfeyrac didn't deliver his following line with the proper enthusiasm, as he was still pretty annoyed about Marius, a guy who he never pegged as a ladies man, had gotten with someone before he had. Of course, he was happy for his friend. Courf was really Marius's only friend and he seemed like a pretty lonely guy, and Courf knew that his grandfather treated him like trash and that's why he was always hanging out at Courf's house. 

Still, Courfeyrac had always thought of himself as the ultimate charmer, and he still hadn't found a girlfriend or boyfriend that stuck more than a week. 

After a less than successful read through, Courfeyrac was still scowling at the sickeningly sweet couple when he heard a low chuckle behind him. 

He turned around. Of course. "What the hell do you want now?" 

"Oh, nothing," Éponine answered with a smirk, "I was just observing how happy you look about this new development." 

"Shut up," Courf mumbled, shoving his script into his backpack with force. 

"Which one of them do you like?" She urged, gazing at the happy pair distantly.

"Neither of them. I just don't understand how they're acting like this after being together one day. Yeah, he's been like stalking her since the beginning of the year, but they literally just got together today. Today!"

"Jeez, I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears. You need to calm the fuck down." She scoffed, though her eyes were also glued on Marius and Cosette and her expression was one of displeasure.

"Oh shut up, Thénardier. Don't you have better things to do? Like robbing banks and getting wasted?" Courfeyrac scowled, standing up and walking past her in a hurry.

"Wow," She called after him, exaggeratedly feigning offense, "That really hurt, Courf."

She was alone in the auditorium with Marius and Cosette when Courfeyrac left. 

The door burst open and in came a pretty blonde woman who looked to be somebody's mother.

"Cosette?" The woman called, "Cosette! Cosette, stand up! Come here right now, young lady. It is time to go home, I have to put dinner on the stove! Come on."

"Mama!" Cosette protested, keeping her tone even, "Can I at least say goodbye to Marius, please?"

"I don't want you doing things like that with boys," Fantine hissed, sending a cold look in Marius's direction. "You should be focusing on enhancing your friendships and your relationship with your family, not fooling around with boys."

Cosette looked absolutely horrified. Her mother had never acted this way, especially not in public! "Mama! Mama, stop! He's my boyfriend, mama!"

Éponine didn't have the pleasure of hearing the rest of the argument, as the bickering Cosette and Fantine had taken their feud into the parking lot. It was just her and Marius in that big auditorium.

Marius looked dazed.

"Marius? You okay?" Éponine quirked an eyebrow, plopping down in the seat formerly occupied by Cosette.

"U-uh, I...yes?" He stammered, turning bright red. Cosette had said her mother was very nice, so he must've done something to make her dislike him.

"Aw, well you don't seem it." She tentatively put a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the buzzing of her phone. It was just Mont texting her to tell her to get her ass to his waiting car. She didn't care.

"Well, Cosette's the love of my life, you see. She is just so beautiful, don't you think? She's kind and sweet and smart—"

"Have you seen the girl in math class?"

"Math isn't her best subject, but that's okay. She's smart, Éponine."

Taken aback by the fact that he knew her name, Éponine took a moment to reply. "Whatever. But her mom went all bat shit crazy, so you'll probably just have to give up. Believe me, you don't want to get tangled up with a woman like that. I think she's capable of doing terrible things to a kid like you."

"You mean I can't see Cosette? But you don't understand! I have not lived until today! I'm not going to give up just because her mother doesn't trust me. I can show her that I'm a trustworthy guy and that I love her daughter."

"You're too cute," Éponine remarked with a small smile, letting her hand linger on Marius's shoulder. He didn't seem to notice. "Maybe it'll all work out. Maybe. But y'know, I think I know of someone who's got the hots for your lady."

"Well, I can understand why but—who?" Marius raised his eyebrows with such concern that Éponine had to stifle a laugh.

"You might not like hearing this but—" She stopped mid sentence when the door burst open yet again. She hoped it wasn't Cosette, and it wasn't.

"Éponine, what the fuck are you doing? I've texted you, like, forty times!" Montparnasse looked pretty damn pissed, so she decided to follow him to his car reluctantly.

"Forty times? Doubtful. And my phone is dead, by the way." She answered as she closed the door behind her, leaving Marius alone in the auditorium.

"What the hell were you doing back there?" Mont asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"You were practically sitting on Pontmercy's lap!"

"Um, no I wasn't. You know he's got a girlfriend, right?" Éponine laughed, though she wasn't smiling. 

"Éponine." 

"Montparnasse." 

"Éponine, come on." Montparnasse rolled his eyes, continuing to pick nervously at his fingernails. Damn, did he need a good manicure. 

"Dude, I don't know what you want me to say here." Éponine scoffed, speeding up so that she didn't have to walk beside him. 

"Ép, it's okay if you like him. Kinda weird, but okay!" Mont tried. That stopped her in her tracks. 

"What the fuck are you talking about? I don't! He's so naive and...not my type." 

"And what is your type?" Mont asked with a raised eyebrow. 

"Not him!"


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew community service could be so dramatic?

Over the weekend, Courfeyrac had told his father about Marius's new love interest. He was hoping to get some sympathy from his father, as his father knew just how awkward Marius could be and just how smooth Courf thought himself to be.

"Michel, you're being selfish," Vincent answered after Courf filled him in, "Seriously, it's very unlike you. You're a good kid, and you're a good friend, and you've never been like this before. Remember the time Marius won that academic award that you wanted in eighth grade? Remember how, even though you were a little upset about losing, you gave him a hug and you were genuinely happy for him? Where's that kid?"

"Dad, I know," Courfeyrac answered with a petulant sigh, "I don't even know why it pisses me off so much, it just does!"

"Hm. I think there are two possible reasons for that." His father sat down on the couch and patted the spot beside himself. Clearly, this would be more than just a quick chat. Courf reluctantly plopped down beside him. "Either you're jealous because you're currently single, or you have a crush on Colette."

"Her name is Cosette, dad, and I don't have a crush on her! What kind of asshole do you think I am? I guess maybe I'm jealous that he has a girlfriend." He admitted, maybe just to get out of this conversation which he didn't mean to start.

"Alright, I see. Give it time, Michel. You don't want to rush into a relationship, either. Don't ask some random kid out just because you want to date someone. That's not fair to either of you, okay?"

"Okay, dad. I get it. I understand. I'm gonna go run lines."

——————

Cosette and her mother had never fought, but now Cosette was completely furious at Fantine. It was already a pretty stressful time for them, packing up all their things and having strangers walk around their house on Saturday afternoons and Friday evenings. But then again, insults weren't thrown across the dinner table and the drunken misogynistic rants were a thing of the past. But seriously, Cosette couldn't believe how her mother had acted towards the love of her life. Cosette hadn't spoken a word to her mother since Friday afternoon. 

Fantine couldn't stand the idea of her baby having her heart broken by a boy, but she also couldn't stand being ignored by her sweet little girl. 

"Cosette?" She knocked on the girl's door gingerly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Cosette didn't answer. She was set on showing her mother just how furious she felt.

"Cosette, darling? I'm coming in." Without waiting for an answer, Fantine pushed the door open. Cosette hadn't even locked it.

"What do you want?" Cosette scowled, pulling her knees to her chest and pausing the punk music that she only listened to to make a point to her mother.

"I'm sorry about Friday, sweetheart, but I really don't think you know what you're getting yourself into." She sat tentatively on the edge of Cosette's bed, her saddened eyes set on her petite daughter.

"Mama, of course I know what I'm getting myself into! A relationship! He's a really nice boy, and he loves me like I love him. Please, mama, I'm being very sensible about all of this! You know I'm not one to get into a relationship just for the sake of it. Please try to understand." Cosette's eyes were pleading now, she had dropped the cold shoulder act.

"You're seventeen! How can you say you love someone?" Fantine sighed, her voice soft.

"I love him! You can meet him if you want. You'll see what a good kid he is."

"Cosette..."

"You being my mother doesn't mean that I have to listen to you. It also doesn't mean I have the same bad judgement as you do." She regretted her words the moment they came out of her mouth. She clamped a hand over her mouth.

"This isn't about me, Cosette," Fantine replied firmly, looking more than a little hurt, "It's about you, and the bottom line is that you're not allowed to date anyone. If I find out that you're still dating that boy, there will be consequences."

With that, Fantine hoisted herself off of the bed and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Cosette buried her head in her knees. It was most likely her fault that her mother was acting so cold all of a sudden, but still she dissolved into sobs as soon as her mother left. How could she disobey her mother? They had always gotten along very well and been close, but she was being absolutely ridiculous! She wouldn't feel right if she lied to her mother, but she couldn't bear to end things with Marius—and after only two days! They had been exchanging sweet texts all day, too.

——————

Ugh. Saturday meant community service for Montparnasse and Éponine after the liquor store incident. They had to serve what felt like a million hours, as they'd been going for three hours every Saturday for a while, but Ép was pretty sure they were almost done. And six in the morning seemed a bit early to both of them. 

"You actually came out on time." Mont remarked with a smirk as she grumpily sat in the passenger seat of his old truck. 

"Yeah, last week they gave us an extra two hours for being late, remember?" She scowled, crossing her arms as she slouched back in her seat. "So hurry up." 

"Do you want me to get a speed ticket, too?" 

"I honestly wouldn't give a shit if you got a speeding ticket." 

Fuck you, 'Ponine. I'm going as fast as I can," Mont growled, his grip tightening around the steering wheel, "And what put you in such an especially foul mood today?" 

"I'm always a moody bitch. I'd assumed you'd noticed by now." She muttered. 

He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but she'd been really pissy about him worrying ever since the incident with Babet. 

"Yeah, I noticed. It just seems like you're more pissed off at the world than usual today." 

"Yeah, maybe I am." 

"Why?" Mont glared at her. 

"Can you just shut your fucking mouth for once? I'm really not in the mood to deal with you today." Éponine's voice had a sharp edge to it. 

"Well, as usual, you're stuck with me. We're the only ones who give a shit about each other, remember?" Mont spat back, a vein pulsing in his neck. 

"Sure, whatever," She rolled her eyes and looked out the window, her jaw set firmly. 

"What the fuck is your problem? Is it your fucked-up crush on Pontmercy?" Mont smirked a little, knowing he must've hit her where it'd hurt. 

"No, because there is no crush. And I don't have a problem to speak of, I have a thousand. Will you shut up?" 

He didn't speak again for the rest of the awkward ride. 

——————

Enjolras picked Combeferre up in front of his large, polished home bright and early on Saturday morning. They were both extremely hardworking boys with phenomenal grades and a handful of extracurricular activities each, but they would both take any extra measures needed to have a good transcript. Why not some community service? 

"Good morning, Enjolras. Where are we working today?" Combeferre asked with a bright smile as he slid gracefully into the passenger seat of Enjolras's shiny black sedan. 

"We're working by the highway, right near Exit 16B," Enjolras answered evenly, "There's loads of trash to pick up, and the facilitator will sign a form right away which we can give to the school. It is an hour long drive, though.

"That sounds great!" Combeferre smiled, though he was slightly upset that he had plans on this particular Saturday. He had been hoping to get ahead on his math homework so that he could have some free reading time, but this would set his schedule back at least a few hours. 

"The only setback is the delinquents from all over town will be attending. We'll have to deal with them, but this was the only time slot available." Enjolras muttered. 

"That shouldn't be a huge problem, Enj. I mean, I doubt they are as bad as you're suggesting. Maybe they just come from troubled homes—and plus, there are supervisors." 

"I suppose you're right about that." 

Once they arrived at the side of the road, it was clear that the place was packed with the "delinquents". While Enjolras was rather intolerant towards these types, 'Ferre tried his best to be understanding—after all, you can never judge anyone until you've walked a mile in their shoes. 

But even Combeferre gave a nasty scowl when he saw a certain couple of kids from his grade, namely Éponine and Montparnasse. They both looked intentionally unpleasant and stood at a distance from each other, and quite pointedly. Enjolras looked disapprovingly at the group as a whole, while Combeferre's nasty glance was stuck on a certain petite delinquent. 

"Ugh. How are we supposed to get anything done? You know, I have homework to do and I only did this for reasons regarding my transcript. 'Ferre, do you think we should leave? I doubt this will be beneficial in any way." Enjolras scowled, though he did stop his car and pull out the keys.

"Enjolras, you're being ridiculous. These are people, you know—people with personalities and lives beyond their status. Perhaps certain members of the group are bad at heart, but some of them are just trying to get by." Combeferre looked thoughtful as he scanned the crowd, though his features twisted into a scowl as his eyes stopped on Montparnasse, and then his scowl grew more disgusted as it reached Éponine moments later. She looked utterly pissed as per usual. 

"Oh joy," She muttered to herself as she stared at the parked car. "The snotty rich boys have joined the party."

"Will you shut up?" Montparnasse scowled in her direction, his voice in a whisper, "No one wants to hear your yammering."

"I wasn't talking to you, Mont," She grumbled, looking slightly hurt, "I was talking to myself, so why don't you shut up?"

"Oh my fucking god," He looked furious. Éponine laughed in his face as she always did when he got angry—it only made him more angry.

"You okay there, buddy?" She pouted, making her voice sickeningly sick.

Her face turned even more sour as her eyes met Combeferre's. He shot a glare in her direction, and damn that sweet kid could be terrifying if he wanted to. She remained glaring as Enjolras walked by, though he didn't seem to notice with his nose stuck up like that.

She hated that kid. He always spoke out in class about rights for the poor, yet he treated her and Mont like shit for no apparent reason. But he worshipped the quiet redhead who she was sure had been in the system his whole life. Fuck kids like him, was her standpoint. 

Enj and Combeferre had a short chat with the large, red faced man in charge and then got to work. Combeferre was unfortunately stationed next to Éponine. 

"Why don't you go to the library or some shit?" Éponine scowled, quickly scooping up a can that he was about to go for himself. "I get the feeling you aren't here by force." 

"Believe me, I would much rather be at the library. I came here because community service looks good on one's transcript. Do you even know what a transcript is, Éponine?" He responded coldly, keeping his head down as he picked up the various kinds of litter. 

"Yeah, I know what a transcript is. I'm not stupid."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Combeferre smirked slightly.

"Just because I don't spend my free time studying doesn't mean I'm stupid. Maybe I just don't give a shit, ever thought of that one, genius?"

"The decision to throw your life away and not try in school is rather stupid, so my statement still stands." He couldn't believe how rude he was being, usually he was outwardly kind to everyone, yet all he felt towards her was burning hatred.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes, adding a small laugh to show him just how much she didn't care.

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again shortly after. It wasn't worth his time to argue with the petulant brat, he decided. He shot Enjolras a pained look across the way, though it was not returned.

Finally, their time was up and Enjolras, Combeferre, Éponine, Montparnasse and everyone else could leave the place behind looking much better than it did before. However, nobody seemed to be speaking. Éponine and Montparnasse were coolly ignoring each other, and Combeferre and Enjolras were uncomfortably silent. 

"You know, if you're going to be a bitch, you don't need a ride home. And hey, you'd better get walking." He smiled broadly, blocking her passage to his truck. 

"You're kidding, right?" Her eyes were wide. She sure as hell was not walking. She hoped he knew that if made her walk, she would never let him forget it. 

"Not even a little," He hopped into his car giddily, starting the engine and speeding away before she could edge her way in. 

She screamed obscenities at the top of her lungs, but he didn't stop the car. She only stopped once he was out of her sight. 

"Fuck him," She muttered to herself, slumping against a tree and putting her head in her hands. She wasn't being lazy; there was no way she could walk that distance! The gloomy clouds suggested oncoming rain, too. 

The place was clearing out quickly, even the facilitator had left. Only the two snotty boys from her grade were left, and she hoped to remain unseen by them. After all, the tree should've supplied some sort of shadow over her. 

"Enj," Combeferre sighed reluctantly, squatting down to spot the figure he saw under a tree. "There's someone sitting there. Let's check it out." 

"You're the one who wants to go home to get his work done so desperately," Enjolras remarked, as he had been the one listening to Combeferre's uncharacteristic whining on the way over. 

"We can't just leave somebody out in the rain. Come on." Combeferre was already halfway there, stopping short when he identified the figure under the tree talking on the phone. 

"Please?" She was silent for a moment, "I can't walk, Ma. I'm a fucking hour away! Yeah. 16B." She put her head in her hands as she listened to the other end. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck are you talking about? You don't do anything for me. Please, just this once? Mont left." She let out an agitated groan as the conversation went on. "No. Don't send Babet, please. I'd rather walk. Fine. I'll walk then. Fuck you." She hung up harshly and shoved the phone into her pocket. 

He certainly didn't like her—but damn, he felt bad. Her own mother wouldn't come and get her? He also wondered who the hell Babet was and why she was so adamant about ignoring him.

"Éponine?" Combeferre called as he squatted down a safe distance away from her. "Do you want a ride? We're going that way anyways."

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. She really was desperate. "Uh, sure. Thanks." Éponine smiled slightly, though she was curious as to why he was being so nice to her.

Silence filled the first ten minutes of the car ride, though Combeferre could sense the tension and spoke up. Seeing Éponine so distressed almost made him hate her less. Maybe. 

"How is your schoolwork going, Éponine?" Combeferre asked, though he realized she was not someone who would respond to this kind of question nicely. 

"You don't have to talk to me, you know," She muttered under her breath, eyes set intently on the cars whizzing past them. "And my schoolwork is nonexistent."

"I know," Combeferre shrugged, "I was just curious—and I'm sure you could do better if you just tried a little bit." 

"I don't feel like it." 

"What a driven student," Enjolras remarked quietly. 

"So, you say you don't need it, you'll do other things with your life. What is the plan?" Combeferre asked, his face thoughtful and his mind open. 

"There's no plan," She shrugged, lifting her head and looking at him finally. "I'll do what I want and somehow manage to eat, I guess." 

Combeferre didn't have a response for that, only a nod. The rest of the ride was silent until the very end, when they were in their town. 

"Where is it you live?" Enjolras asked as he looked in the rear view mirror, somehow making the question intimidating. They were stopped at a red light, 

"You can just drop me off from here. I'll walk the rest." Before Combeferre could protest as he was planning to, the girl quickly threw the car door open and closed it behind her swiftly, jogging down the street and down a back alley until she was out of sight. 

"I do not like that girl. Something about her is very off putting," Enjolras remarked as she ran, his slate gray eyes remained on the road. 

"Cut her some slack, Enj. She's not exactly living the life," Combeferre sighed, wondering how he ever felt so much hatred towards her when she was clearly dealing with so much strife in her every day life. 

"Still," Enjolras replied quickly, "She is still in charge of her own actions. Feuilly has been in a group home since he was tiny and he doesn't act the way she does. He works hard every single day and he's working three jobs at seventeen." 

"Enj," Combeferre's tone was becoming irritated, "Different people deal with unfortunate upbringings in different ways. At least she isn't an axe murderer."

"I wouldn't put it past her. I swear, there is something unhinged about that girl."

"Oh, would you stop it, you spoiled rich boy?"

"That's rich coming from you, spoiled rich boy. I don't have it any better off than you do and at least I am trying to help those in unfortunate places."

"You literally just spent the last three minutes talking about your hatred for those in unfortunate places, Enj. Come on." Combeferre looked downright annoyed.

"I'm finished talking about this, 'Ferre. We're here." He pulled up in front of Combeferre's house looking utterly pissed.

"Thank you for the ride." Combeferre spat coldly as he slammed the door behind him.

—————

"Thanks for the ride, Ma," Éponine spat bitterly as she plopped down on the patched up couch. 

"What the hell did you want me to do? Just because you're getting yourself in trouble don't mean I gotta pick you up from god knows where!" Madame shouted from a distance which really didn't require her hoarse shouting. 

"Yeah, pretty much," Éponine rolled her eyes, "Other people's moms picked them up—or at least they had rides." 

"You should've had a ride. Ain't my fault you messed things up with your father's little high school friend." 

"Montparnasse. And it ain't my fault he was being an asshole, either."

"Alright, Azelma. You're talking my ear off." 

"I'm Éponine." 

"Eh, you're all the same." 

With that, Éponine threw a nearby porno magazine in her mother's direction and stormed off into her room where the actual Azelma was waiting. 

"I hear you and Montparnasse are fighting?" Azelma quirked an eyebrow, putting down her history textbook for a moment. It looked as if she was in the middle of an intense study period. Éponine wondered how—it was still sort of the beginning of the year. 

"None of your goddamn business," Éponine replied, plopping down on her bed and retrieving the "water bottle" from under her pillow—not that her parents cared, but Azelma was on her a lot about the "self destructive vices" lately. 

"Sorry," Azelma shrunk back, though she didn't look as skittish as usual, "I just think it isn't worth ending the friendship." 

"Yeah, it's not over or anything. Are you fucking stupid? We fight all the time, it's fine. Just that he didn't give me a ride and it pissed me off." 

"Alright, alright. Just don't it slip through the cracks, okay? You only have each other." Azelma's eyes were wide as she spoke, prompting an exaggerated eye roll from her older sister. 

"Will do, 'Zel." 

Azelma grinned at the nickname.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette and Marius cry in each other's arms, Montparnasse takes a picture, and Éponine cries alone in her bedroom.

It seemed that for once, a little scuffle between Éponine and Montparnasse was not resolved on Monday at school. Then again, he tended to be all talk most of the time. This time, he hadn't been lying when he threatened to leave Éponine behind. He'd forced her to spend a whole awkward car ride with stuck up rich boys who she hated, and she had gotten yelled at by her father later that night for 'bothering her mother' when she called. She was beyond pissed at Mont. 

He didn't come to the building to pick her up, but that was fine by her, as she wasn't planning on going to school, anyways. She did, however, spend an unreasonable amount of time watching out the window just to see if he would come. Normally, she would rush out the door last minute, sure he would be there. As if she cared. She staggered back to bed and slept through the school day.

Meanwhile, Mont had attended school that day—he had to. He couldn't miss more than three rehearsals or else he would be recast, and he wanted to save his three missed rehearsals for when he really needed them. Plus, he had nothing to do. He couldn't hang out with Éponine. He knew she'd still be pissed at him and he was done with her attitude lately. She was normally surly, but lately she had seemingly completely disregarded his feelings. He felt like throwing her off a bridge, and therefore he was in no condition to see her.

Whatever. He slicked his hair back with an unreasonable amount of gel that morning, telling himself that now he could do whatever the fuck he wanted since she wouldn't be there to judge him. He wore the leather spiked bracelet that she made fun of. It wasn't nearly as empowering as he hoped it would be, but he still managed a small smirk for himself. He was considering texting her to tell her how he wasn't coming, but he decided that would be overkill. If she even wanted to go to school—which he doubted—she would have to fucking walk while he sat comfortably in his car.

Meanwhile, she was considering texting him. She had a few snarky messages planned out in her head, but decided against texting him. But fuck, she was pissed. She took a deep, angry breath and tried her very best to fall back asleep while resisting the temptation to text him.

———————

Cosette hadn't showed up to school early to have extra help from Mr. Fauchelevent like she usually did. She endured an awkward car ride with her mother later than usual, pulling up to the school right around the same time that Marius Pontmercy did so with his rusty old bike.

She waited until her mother had driven away to nearly sprint up to him as he pulled off his helmet.

"Hey," Cosette sighed, her big blue eyes looking even bigger and bluer than usual. At least, they looked that way to Marius.

"Cosette! Hi!" Marius grinned, having completely forgotten Fantine's reaction to him before the weekend.

"Look, I'm sure you noticed my mom. I'm sorry about her."

"It's alright, really. I'm sure she's normally very nice. She did seem a little, um, angry, though."

"Yeah," Cosette frowned, "She doesn't want me to have a boyfriend. I told her we're in love and she still said no." By now, Marius and Cosette were walking into he building with their hands intertwined. Marius was blushing profusely, which gave the distressed Cosette a little giggle.

"How mad is she?"

"Pretty mad."

"So, she hit you?' Marius frowned, searching his girlfriend's face for bruises with an air of panic.

"Marius?" Cosette furrowed her eyebrows, meeting his eyes. "My mother would never hit me. Why would you think my mother would hit me?"

He was blushing even harder, if possible, but it was a different kind of blush. "I'm sorry I said that. I wasn't trying to insult your mother—"

"Marius," Cosette's tone changed. Her face was like stone, her tone serious. "Do you think it's normal for parents to hit their kids?"

"Only if they misbehave," Marius recited, "Only if I'm asking for it." He shook his head frustratedly. 

Cosette's bottom lip trembled and tears came to her beautiful eyes. She paused for a moment, seemingly not knowing what exactly to do. Suddenly, she threw her arms around the lanky boy, holding on tighter than one might think was possible for such a little thing.

It seemed like forever until she let go, but Marius didn't mind. He almost forgot how embarrassed he was while he leaned into Cosette's sweet hug.

"Marius," Tears were streaming down her face as she pulled away from the long embrace, still holding tightly onto his skinny arms. "Your grandfather hits you, doesn't he?"

"I don't—I—" Marius stammered, starting to tear up as he saw Cosette cry. He didn't mean to upset her.

The students around them rushed to their first period classes, but Marius and Cosette didn't seem to be leaving their station by the door for a long while. They were crying loudly and messily in each other's arms, not looking up to acknowledge the students gawking at them in every direction. It didn't matter. 

——————

Éponine and Montparnasse were not getting along, and neither were Combeferre and Enjolras. The thing was, nothing in particular had set either of them off. They had both become awfully short with each other on Saturday and the whole thing with Éponine had created some tension, too. They pointedly avoided each other on Monday. 

Combeferre was quieter than usual and instead of being thoughtful as it usually was, his expression was completely sour. As he sat in first period European history, he pointedly avoided Enjolras's uncertain glance and instead of chatting about their notes after class, the two left without the classroom without exchanging a word. The tension was almost tangible. 

"Hey, Combeferre," Courfeyrac grinned, sidling up next to him with a smile which resembled sunshine. They had English together, Courfeyrac's only honors class. 

Seeing the boy's bright smile improved Combeferre's mood more than Courfeyrac would ever know. "Good morning! Did you read the first act of Macbeth?" 

"Yeah. Not bad," Even as he talked about mundane subjects like the play they happened to be reading in English, he wore an impish smile. 

"I liked it, too," Combeferre grinned; Courfeyrac's energy proved to be infectious. "Hey, there's a project after we finish the play, is there not?" 

"There is." 

"Would you like to partner up in advance?" Combeferre blushed slightly. 

"Don't you usually partner up with Enjolras? I mean, I'd love to, but I'm just curious." 

"We aren't proving to be a very compatible pair at the moment, so no. I think I'd like to work with you more, anyways."

A dramatic hand flew to Courfeyrac's chest in mock shock. "You would prefer a mere peasant like me?" Then, he let out a high-pitched giggle which his father was surprised he had never grown out of.

"Yes, I would." Combeferre confirmed with a small smirk as he entered the classroom and took his seat at the front of the class. Even with his glasses, his eyesight made sitting in the back of the classroom a difficult feat—and he liked being in the front anyways.

——————

Montparnasse took his sweet time in the morning once he arrived at school. Of course, unlike Éponine, he actually put effort into his schoolwork. He had to be accepted to a good college to get on the right path—the right path being one that lead to making incredible amounts of money. Sometimes he would pace around his little apartment and imagine himself sitting on a deck facing the beach, pulling into a long, winding driveway in a Maserati, wearing Prada and Gucci and all of the suits in the magazines piling up next to the couch. The money he got from helping out Claquesous, Babet, Brujon and Thénardier was only enough to pay for his shitty apartment and he was left to dream about everything else.

He figured that he already had a grade somewhere in the B range, so missing a class couldn't hurt—and plus, he was positively pissed. 

Since he was supposed to be angry at Éponine, he couldn't help but smirk when he caught a glimpse of that boy she liked making out with the sweet girl from math. Not even a little part of him ached for his friend. Instead, he took out his cell and covertly flashed a quick picture of the pair, a smirk still spread across his lips. 

He could tell that she had read the text and hadn't responded. Whatever. He didn't need her— and she was just jealous, anyways. 

——————

When Éponine received Mont's text, she had to do a double take, not having recognized the pair at first sight. But the girl's silky chestnut hair and the boy's jet black mane could only mean one thing. In a fit of anger, she threw her cell phone across the room forcefully. She was oddly disappointed when it hit the wall but reframed from shattering into a million pieces, as that would have been far more satisfying than just a clunk when it hit the ground. Shitty phones are more durable, though. 

After the initial shock, she felt anger bubbling in her stomach like she never had before. And she knew it was ridiculous, she knew that she probably should have figured it out earlier, with all their dreamy glances and practically shared seats at rehearsal—not that she attended rehearsal as much as she should have. But still, this made everything seem far more official to her, like if they shared saliva they would never break up. Again, she wasn't thinking straight. 

Eventually, the anger dissolved into more of a dull throbbing in the form of disappointment. Of course she had wanted to date Marius. He was smart. He spoke three languages fluently—she wasn't even gifted in her mother tongue! He was sweet, too, the kind of guy who would come home after a long day and bring home a tastefully arranged bouquet. She could have gotten out of the shithole she was set to be living in her whole life and she could have lived well-off with the sweetest guy who she'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. But of course, she wasn't enough. She knew that all along. She was sure that she was absolutely hideous and unpleasant and obviously poor as fuck, and that she could never land a guy like him. But couldn't a girl hope? 

Her mind was overflowing with hatred as her eyes were with tears. Why the fuck was she crying? She never had a chance anyways, and it was stupid of her to even hope. Plus, she supposed that Cosette deserved him anyways. She was kind and good and pretty, everything Éponine could never be. 

Still, a little part of her felt as if tearing the happy couple apart would be beneficial, and she was far beyond caring how horrible a person this thought made her.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama ensues in the hallways, math class and at rehearsal. Éponine makes an ass out of herself, Courfeyrac the flirt doesn't realize he might be on the receiving end of some flirting and unlikely friends are made after school!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there! Sorry I haven't posted in forever (wow, it has been nearly 5 months!) I will be posting more regularly now because I've gotten inspiration again & am falling back into the Les Mis fandom! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter & the introduction of two new Amis!

After an admittedly shitty skip day, Éponine was absolutely determined to turn it around on Tuesday. Of course, this would be a bit difficult since Montparnasse was still holding his little grudge and wouldn't pick her up, but she would find a way. Somehow she would find a way. Well how the hell did Azelma get to school? She would have asked, but her sister had left forty minutes earlier.

Maybe, she thought, it wouldn't be so horrible to swallow her pride and beg Mont to come pick her up. It seemed worth it. 

"If you're calling to bitch at me, hang up." Mont answered, his voice smooth as usual and edged with anger.

"I'm not. Are you going to bring me to school, or what?"

"Sorry, I thought you were done showing up." It was as if Éponine could literally hear him flipping his hair over the phone.

"Well, I want to go." Éponine sighed loudly, frustrated, but not quite ready to accept defeat. While usually stubborn, she was especially persistent now. 

"Are you drunk or something?" 

"No, not even a little. Come on. Please." 

With a resigned sigh, Montparnasse hung up the phone. Éponine grinned a lopsided grin, knowing very well that this meant he would be coming. 

Éponine practically sprinted at the run down truck when it appeared in the parking lot. 

"Someone's excited to learn." Mont chuckled, trying not to meet her eyes. Something about her giddy grin and bright eyes was odd, not off putting, but unexplainably odd. 

"Yeah, sure." Surprisingly, she pulled the seat belt on over her beloved army jacket. 

"Seat belt? Smiling? A desire to learn? Who is this girl and what has she done with my reckless, bitchy sidekick?" 

"Don't get used to it. And don't talk about it. You're going to ruin it." Just to make a point, she unbuckled the seat belt promptly. 

"Alright, I'll shut up now."

\---------

Courfeyrac couldn't help but find himself beyond pissed off, standing off to the side while Marius and Cosette whispered little inside jokes that Courf didn't get, and if he did, wouldn't find remotely funny. Being the popular guy he was, he could have easily found another group to hang out with, but he wasn't necessarily just lonely. He missed his best friend, and felt maybe he had been replaced as Marius's number one. What about "bros before hoes?" and all of that shit? 

"Courfeyrac." A voice came from behind the curly haired boy. The voice was low and raspy, and the breath of its owner reeked of cigarettes. 

"What do you want?" He turned bitterly, perhaps even more bitterly than he would have if he hadn't been miffed about Marius and Cosette in the first place. 

"Oh, come on. Look at you! You fucking hate this." On the word this, she threw a dramatic hand gesture in the general direction of the happy couple. 

"No. No, I'm not. And why the hell do you care so much? It doesn't concern you in the least. I'm happy that my best friend is happy. Yeah, it's called being a friend. I don't know if you've ever had one, but it's pretty cool. You should try it sometime. That is, if you can get someone to put up with you." 

"Bitter much, Courf? God." A guttural, though somehow simultaneously light laugh emerged from Éponine's chapped lips. "You're a nice guy, Michel—"

"First off, don't call me that. Second, what the fuck are you on right now?" 

"Alright, Courfeyrac. And nothing. I'm not on anything— at the moment. As I was saying, you're a nice guy and, well, you're kind of acting like an asshole right now." 

"Am I? Is it off-putting enough for you to leave me alone?" 

"Oh, buddy. I couldn't leave you here. Third wheeling isn't fun for anyone, not even you, Mr. Popularity. I'm just saying, why d'you got to be such an asshole to me? What did I ever to do you?— Oh wait. I know. But, come on! It was in fucking third grade." 

"I don't know what you're trying to imply here, but I'm not going to be all chummy with you, even if you do give me some half-assed apology."

"Fine. No half-assed apology." 

"Well— I mean, I still kind of deserve an apology." This was delivered by Courfeyrac with a short laugh, the kind of laugh that was followed by him running a hand through his dark, curly hair. The ladies always loved that one. 

"You're not going to get one. But, I think we can make a deal."

"What? I don't want anything from you. In fact, I don't want to touch anything from you with a thirty nine and a half foot pole."

"Yeah, I think there's something you want. Isn't there?" With this, her scheming eyes fell on Marius and Cosette again and then back on a very confused Courfeyrac. 

"Dude, I don't know what you think I have against Marius and his girlfriend."

"Yes you do. You don't want to admit it. You want to keep up the image of being a supportive friend, after all, you made it all happen. Didn't you?" 

"Yeah, I did, but I— where is this going? Cut to the chase, Éponine." 

"Alright. Fine. What would fuck up their little relationship more than a little cheating scandal, huh? That's right. Nothing!"

"Éponine. What the actual hell?" 

"Oh, come on, Courf. One night. Me and Marius. You find a video. You tell Cosette and the whole fucking thing blows up in their—" A small smirk played on her lips as he began to interrupt. 

"Oh my god. Oh my god. You're bat shit crazy. And I mean it. You stay away from me, and you stay away from Marius, got it?" 

"As if." 

And with that, Courfeyrac dashed off, his eyes filled with horror. God, now he had a legitimate reason to hate this bitch that went beyond third grade. Who in the right mind said creepy shit like that? Despite how much he wanted to let Marius know about this psychotic bitch, he considered the fact that her suggestion could legitimately terrify Pontmercy. And so he saved the juicy bit for his father. 

Éponine, on the other hand, didn't feel too shameful about it. In fact, she wasn't even done trying. Just because Marius's asshole best friend didn't want to go along with her plan didn't mean she was finished. 

On her way to first period math, Éponine gave the pair a side eye as she walked by, and while Pontmercy seemed lost in Cosette's blue eyes, Cosette caught her stare and mustered a small smile for her notorious class mate. 

\--------

As Courfeyrac stalked to math, he was pulled out of his furious thoughts for a moment by a timid tap on his shoulder. Once he turned around and met Combeferre's eyes, a bright smile graced his impish face again.

"Hey, 'Ferre! Can I call you that?"

"Be my guest," Combeferre answered with a good natured chuckle, hanging his head for a quick moment and once again lifting it to adjust his glasses.

"Wait, wait, I've got this. Here. First period you've got—" Courfeyrac racked his mind, finding it completely blank as he did so.

"European History?"

"Nope."

"English?"

"I'm in your English class."

"Right. I give up."

"Modern World Conflicts with Mr. Forest He's a great teacher." Combeferre answered with a tight, albeit sincere, smile.

"Oh, yeah. I had him for world history in ninth grade and he is fine." Courf held out the last word in a breathy voice, adding in a wink for good measure.

"Oh, really? See, I prefer to spend the class looking at my notes instead of his ass." Combeferre laughed, looking down at Courfeyrac. Looking down, of course, because he was nearly a foot taller.

"Oh my fucking god. I'm serious! His ass is literally the best ass. Have you seen it, man?" Courfeyrac, being the theatrical boy he was, gestured wildly as he spoke of such a sophisticated topic.

"It's, uh, it's a pretty nice ass. But I'd also like to pass the class, so..."

"Eh, fair enough. I did end up with a D on my first report card." After saying this, Courf giggled at having said the letter "D", "And not the kind of D I wanted from Mr. Forest."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" 'Ferre couldn't hold back a laugh, and not a chuckle, but a full-on belly laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." And with one last impish smile, Courfeyrac waved goodbye to Combeferre as he sauntered into Fauchelevent's class room. 

And his smile was gone immediately. 

\------

"Look at him, Mont. He ain't taking his fucking eyes off of her." Éponine slumped down in her desk, head in hands.

"Will you get the fuck over it already? You never had a chance."

"Yeah, I know. I'm over it, but I'm just saying, okay?" Her irritable tone evoked a smug raise of the eyebrow from Montparnasse. 

"Oh, you screwed things up big time, didn't you, 'Ponine?" His voice quiet and smooth as silk, he leaned back in his creaky chair. 

"No. Fuck off." Her words were muffled by her hands and she sat up quickly, crossing her arms pointedly as she did. 

"Alright, quiet down everyone." Fauchelevent rose from his desk with a tight smile, setting his wire framed glasses down next to the homeworks he had been grading. "Now, at the beginning of the year, you were told that picking your seats was a privilege which I have every right to revoke if it is abused. And it has been. So, without further adieu, the new seating chart is on my desk. Find your new seats and get used to them." 

The aging teacher ignored the groans as he sat back in his chair. 

The sluggish, miserable, tired teenagers slowly made their way over to the chart as a collective group and viewed the chart, some not even trying to veil their feelings of disappointment. Fauchelevent gave these students one of his patented warning looks.

"Farewell, Éponine." Montparnasse dramatically feigned despair as he read that Éponine sat on the complete opposite side of the class room.

"Get over yourself." She grumbled in response, though her lips curled into a smirk as her name was listed besides Marius's. 

Sitting down besides Marius, Éponine ignored the cold glare from Courfeyrac across the room. He didn't look all to happy to be sitting besides Montparnasse, either.

"Marius! Hey." Éponine greeted with what she hoped was a coy smile. It really wasn't. Not even close.

"Hi, Éponine." As Éponine and Marius exchanged pleasantries for a couple of minutes before Fauchelevent started the lesson, his eyes met hers not once. They were glued on Cosette's, which were glued on his. And Jesus, Éponine couldn't help but pity the two idiots. And at the same time, she wanted to be them.

"Upset to be separated from your honey?" Muttered Éponine, the last word profoundly biting.

"Yes. I don't know why our right was revoked. To sit near each other, I mean."

"Yeah, I got that. You know you've got to live your own life, right? Do stuff that's not her?" Éponine chuckled at her own word choice, being herself her only entertainment.

"Mm hm."

It was hopeless. Éponine shook her head in defeat, leaning back and trying her darnedest to fall asleep. But she couldn't. 

Screw that. She wouldn't admit defeat. With a swift rise from her chair, she tapped Marius's back lightly, tucking a snarly strand of hair behind her ear.

"So, do you remember what the change of base formula is for a logarithm?" She asked. 

It seemed he had not heard her question, as instead of answering it, Marius turned around abruptly with another thought completely. 

"Is passing notes completely childish?" He blushed slightly as he spoke.

"I'd say so." After a moment's pause, she continued. "But what do you have in mind, Pontmercy?" 

"How's this?" The scarlet faced brunette scribbled furiously, writing out 'Tu es très belle! Meet me under the staircase after class? I miss you!'

Reading over his shoulder, Éponine scowled. Her arms were crossed over her chest petulantly at the stupid note.

"Are you kidding?" An incredulous chuckle rang in his ear.

"No..."

"That's the cheesiest shit I've ever seen. Seriously. She'll dump your sorry ass if you load her up with that bull shit."

"Oh. I, uh, didn't know that."

And so Marius settled for staring borderline creepily at his chestnut haired lover across the room. And the creepy stares were returned. Fucking Christ, Éponine was about to throw up on an empty stomach. This shit went on for the rest of the class period.

\---------

Ugh. A mandatory rehearsal was being held that afternoon for all cast and crew members. Well, ugh only described the emotions of one person— Éponine.

"Maybe it wouldn't suck so much if you'd quit bitching about it." Montparnasse's tone was sharp, addressing her obnoxious moaning on the way to the auditorium.

"It'll suck either way." She grumbled, absentmindedly picking at an old scar while the pair made their way to what Éponine thought to be hell and Montparnasse thought to be, well, somewhat of an escape. He loved this drama stuff, but telling Éponine would be humiliating. Maybe, he thought, finding more supportive friends would be beneficial, but then again, he was the one to give the cheesy 'you and me against the world' speech a week or so ago. So he'd pretend it was some stupid program he was reluctantly participating in and he wouldn't get beaten up or whatever.

"Éponine! And our charming Vizier!" Musichetta threw a flowered dress clad arm around Mont's shoulder. "You're needed on the stage right about now, Jafar. And Éponine, would you like to head backstage and poke your head around to see who needs a hand? Thanks, sweetie!" 

"Well I'd like to be dead right now, but I guess that's out of the question." 

Montparnasse rolled his eyes at her dramatic declaration, giving a small wave as they went their separate ways. 

Perfectly content with slouching in the corner, Éponine went off to do so before her shoulder was grasped tightly.

"Firstly, get the fuck off of me and secondly, what do you want?" She wasn't a huge fan of being touched without giving express permission to the idiot who did so.

"You're not going to get off so easily," A deep voice grumbled behind her. She turned to see a muscular, dark haired boy towering over her.

"Aren't I?" Éponine's response was void of any expression as she pushed past the bulky kid.

"You're a real tough girl, aren't you?" The kid observed with a raised eyebrow, his tone sounding awfully patronizing to Éponine, who certainly wasn't in the mood for this.

"Yeah, I'd say I am. Want to test out that theory?"

Both the impressively built kid and Éponine of barely five feet looked fierce, ready to fight. Her jaw was clenched and eyes squinted intently at this asshole.

"You need to chill, bro." An unkempt looking boy with a paintbrush and evidence of said paint all over his clothing clamped a hand over the other boy's muscular shoulder bracingly.

"I've got this, R." He mumbled at the painter, his eyes flickering back and forth between R and Éponine.

"I'll take both of you." Éponine announced, straightening her posture with arms crossed tightly.

"Who are you?" Asked the muscular kid finally, moving from his fighting stance to look at the mysterious feisty girl quizzically.

"You first."

"That's stupid, but okay. I'm Bahorel and this douche on my right is Grantaire." He gestured to his messy friend with a boyish smile.

"Charming. Truly. I'm Éponine and I don't want to be here."

"Éponine? Like the Éponine who gets suspended every other week and fucked Mr. Forest?" Grantaire let out an incredulous bark, exchanging a look with Bahorel.

"That's, like, one third true. My name is Éponine and the rest of it is bull shit." It looked as if her eyes would roll completely back into her head. Maybe she'd be excused from rehearsal if they did. That was a nice thought.

"Right," Bahorel continued, "And your boyfriend is Mo—"

"I don't have a boyfriend. How many bull shit rumors are there about me? Like, the one about me killing my mom was bad enough. Unfortunately, she's still alive in well."

"Oh, come on," Grantaire snorted, "Matricide is never the answer."

"Shut up. I'm just saying, I've never done any of this crap. I've got better things to do. Plus, I don't think I could bring myself to fuck someone who is so completely invested in the life and times of Peter the Great."

"It's true. He is oddly fond of Peter the Great." Grantaire agreed reluctantly. There was laughter evident in his tone.

"Anyways. Éponine, you go help Grantaire paint the set. And getting high off of paint doesn't count as helping."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"How drunk are you right now?" Éponine asked with a raised eyebrow, following Grantaire into the hallway where they were beginning work on the mural.

"What are you talking about?" Grantaire laughed, though his face grew bright red within seconds.

"I'm talking about how I'm not stupid and your unmarked water bottles don't fool me like they fool your idiot teachers."

"You're good. I'll give you that. But I'd appreciate you shutting your mouth, kay?"

"God, wanna chill out? I'm not judging you or anything. In fact, I'm even a little envious." The smirk she wore was clear as she spoke.

"Fine. Good for you. Now we're going to drop it, yeah?"

"Not until I get a sip, buddy."

Somehow, two hours later when rehearsal finished, Éponine and Grantaire sat behind a locked closet door, sloppily spraying air freshener every couple of minutes to diffuse the obvious smells of cheap liquor and cigarettes.

"I'm j'saying, if you like this blonde kid, fuck him already!" Éponine cried drunkenly, throwing her head back.

"No, s'not like that. He doesn't like me. Hates me." His head drooped down nearly to his skinny jean covered knees.

"Fuck'm anyways. Won't know what hit'm." She giggled, taking a long sip from a paper bag shaped suspiciously like a bottle.

"Y'know what? I like you."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****DO NOT READ THIS CHAPTER IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY SELF-HARM, EXTREME MENTAL ILLNESS REFERENCES & SUICIDE ATTEMPTS *****
> 
> Éponine & Grantaire learn a bit more about each other and Éponine struggles to hold on at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, haven't updated in forever!

Perhaps they were laughing too loud, as Éponine and Grantaire heard a fist rapping on the door of the janitor's closet.

"Shit," Éponine muttered, standing up unsteadily and giving Grantaire a mock salute as she opened the door, knowing exactly who she would see on the other side.

"What the fuck are you—" Montparnasse's eyebrows were furrowed as he poked his hair gelled head into the closet. 

Éponine's only answer was a sloppy shrug.

Mont let out an indignant breath. "And now you're drunk. Cool. And who's the perv behind you?"

"Jesus, Mont! What's it to you?" She laid a bony finger on his chest.

"I just want to know who this fuckwad is before I kick his sorry ass." By now, his jaw was clenched to reveal his chiseled jaw line— for which he often vocalized his gratefulness.

"Don't get too full of yourself, pretty boy," Grantaire chuckled, his voice ringing with arrogance. 

"You're an idiot, it's not even worth my time to kick your pathetic ass." Montparnasse quipped, his nose high in the air as he tugged Éponine by the arm. 

When they were a few steps away from the closet, Éponine let out a guttural chuckle which reeked of cheap liquor and cigarettes. "Got scared, didn't'y?"

"No. I didn't. It wouldn't be an even match and it would be embarrassing to win over someone who's wasted." Montparnasse's tone was even, though his expression was one that she recognized. He looked about ready to kill a man.

"Right."

"You know, you're not really in a place to judge right now."

"Eh, I'd say I am." She was incorrect, of course. One can't judge when they cannot currently walk without the support of another. 

"Right. At some point it gets old lugging your drunk ass around." Montparnasse scowled, anger bubbling inside of him. And damn, when anger bubbled inside of Mont, nobody would be spared. 

Éponine only shrugged in response. 

"God, you're so fucking helpless." His eyes were stone cold as he continued, his grip on Éponine tightening a bit too much. 

"Ow!" She interjected, her voice grating. 

"If it weren't for me, you'd be flailing on the ground like an idiot." 

"Thanks? That what you want, a thank you?" Even in her impaired state, his mood was slightly terrifying. Stupidly, she tried to struggle from his harsh grip. 

"Fine," He sneered, letting go completely. "How's that? I'm done dealing with your fucking issues. No more picking up after you, or making sure you get home safe, or calling to make sure you're not dead. I'm done. Finished. I've got my own shit without taking care of you."

She hit the ground with a thud, wincing as she looked up at him. "The fuck?" 

He didn't stop. And he didn't look back either, even as his name was called after him multiple times. Guilt was foreign to him. He didn't think of the trouble she might get into trying to get home, the hurt he might have caused her. It was all very impulsive.

Not too hurt by Mont's random outburst of anger, Éponine tried to hoist herself up off of the ground. Once this task was painstakingly completed, she walked slowly around the school, fumbling unsteadily.

It wasn't completely unexpected for Montparnasse to throw a hissy fit like this one. He did it quite often, and usually out of nowhere, it seemed. 

When she passed the lobby, her eyes met Cosette's innocent blue ones. Taking pity, Cosette scurried over to Éponine, assuming she was sick. It looked as if she was about to pass out! Cosette could understand that; sometimes when she was on her period, her cramps were so bad that she nearly fell unconscious.

"Hey, Éponine," Cosette murmured, laying a gentle hand on Éponine's bony shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"What? I didn't catch that. Sorry." Her eyebrows furrowed.

"I said I'm fine. Chill."

Cosette tilted her head to one side. Was Éponine— drunk? At school? Her eyes widened, filled with a vague horror mixed with pity. 

"Why don't I have my mother drive you home? She'll be happy to. She's coming to pick me up, anyways." Cosette smiled slightly, still a bit weirded out by her state.

Weighing her options, Éponine was quiet for a moment. 

Cosette tried to fill the moment of uncomfortable silence. "She, um, doesn't mind. Here, she's in the parking lot."

"I'm good. Thanks." Éponine muttered, attempting to scurry away but instead stumbling stupidly. Man, she was really drunk. Well, more drunk than she'd typically be at school, but not quite as drunk as that one time just days before...

Maybe she would have better luck if she just met back up with Grantaire. For someone she had only met that day, he seemed like a pretty chill guy to her. 

Luckily for her, the scruffy haired boy was sitting with his back against the wall right next to the stage door. He seemed purposeless. A tangled pair of headphones lay in his open palm, but not in his ears. A stupid smile was planted on his lips, curling them slightly. 

"Hey." Éponine spoke and cleared her voice simultaneously. 

Grantaire looked up suddenly, abandoning the headphones in favor of rubbing his sunken eyes. 

He began to laugh loudly, the sound ringing throughout the hallway. "Where's your toughy tough mighty tough friend gone off to?" 

"Dunno. All I know's that he left m'here." She plopped down beside him gracelessly, slinging an arm around him with a tipsy smile. 

"I'll drive you home, y'know." He shrugged, slowly taking another swig from a suspiciously unmarked water bottle. 

"Aren't you, like, fucking hammered?" 

"Aren't you?" 

"Yeah, cool. Let's do it." Éponine chuckled, standing up with perhaps too much of a start. Grantaire unsteadily joined her in standing, but looked down the hallway and immediately plopped back down, looking a bit shell shocked.

"What the fuck?" She mumbled, smiling in understanding as her eyes found his target. 

This target was a haughty, beautiful blond who she recognized all too well. Enjolras.

Without giving the matter another thought, Grantaire began to make his way to the blond, swaying on his feet as he walked.

"Enjy!" He called gratingly, so obnoxiously that even Éponine cringed.

"Grantaire. You reek of alcohol. And we are on school grounds." Enjolras, Éponine noted, maintained his usual nose-in-the-air demeanor. She let an eye roll slip.

"Yeah? What's got you here so late on a crazy Tuesday night?" Grantaire crossed his arms as he spoke, though his dry and slightly slurred tone didn't quite match his eyes.

"I'm a peer tutor for a few freshmen who struggle in history. Is school your favorite place to make a downright fool out of yourself?" Enjolras brushed past the drunkard, who shrugged with only a trace of defeat and ambled back to his new friend.

"Me making a fool out of myself? What about you flipping out at Mr. Reed about some government bullshit nobody gives a flying fuck about?" Grantaire called after the blond, swaying slightly. 

"You're drunk. I'm giving you a chance to stop talking and retreat back to your janitor's closet or wherever." Despite his even tone, Enjolras's eyes were on fire. Without another word, he stormed off with more dignity than Grantaire could ever muster. 

Éponine almost felt bad for both of them. Enjolras must've been constantly harassed by this kid, but on the other hand, she saw Enjolras as a total and complete asshole. And Grantaire opened up to her earlier about just how much he felt for Enjolras, and the blatant rejection was stinging, even just to watch.

Unable to watch Grantaire humiliate himself anymore, Éponine dragged him by hand to the parking lot.

"He hates me. I know."

"Maybe you could be a little less of an ass? I mean, if you were even slightly less obnoxious maybe he'd hate you a little less."

"So you're saying he does hate me. Thanks, Ép." Grantaire muttered.

"Hey, I'm trying to help you out here. Stop being a little bitch." Éponine chuckled, adding a glare at the end.

As Grantaire opened the passenger door of his beat up truck for Éponine, feigning chivalry, she quirked an eyebrow.

After briefly reviewing the situation, Grantaire propped his feet up on the dashboard, figuring he'd wait a while to drive. After all, he didn't want to kill Éponine or else her creepy friend would make his life a living hell. Or worse.

"Are you texting your boyfriend over there?" Grantaire cleared his throat after a few minutes of silence as Éponine furiously typed away in the passenger seat.

"Who exactly is my boyfriend, again?" She chuckled, her eyes still glued to the screen and her fingers still flying all over the keyboard.

"Creepy leather jacket kid. Someone should tell him he looks like fucking Danny Zuko."

"Firstly, he's not my boyfriend, so shut the fuck up. And secondly, I think he'd take that as a compliment."

"Well?"

"Well what?" Éponine seemed a little bit irritated now. Great. Grantaire grinned.

"Are you texting the greaser?"

"No. My father." She returned with a note of disgust.

Grantaire nodded, his oily dark curls bouncing slightly. With a mischevious grin, he grabbed the crappy little phone out of Éponine's bony hands.

"What the fuck? Fucking give that back!" Éponine screeched, flailing her arms around in Grantaire's general direction.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he attempted to decipher the perplexing code Éponine and her father used over text.

"Hold the fuck up... Hold up." Grantaire stifled his laughter with a dirty hand.

Éponine's eyes widened. He couldn't be able to decipher this, could he? "...What?"

"Is your dad a drug dealer? And if so, what's he look like? I've probably met him."

"No, he's not. He's not a drug dealer." What would her father do to her if she accidentally gave away who he was and what he had done? She went completely pale, and started peeling at the bloody skin around her fingernails. Trying to hide her obvious anxiety, she laughed. "Why the fuck would my dad be a dealer?"

"No reason. I'm joking, come on. Chill." Grantaire could sense the Éponine's nerves, deciding to lay off a little bit. He saw a relatable fear in her eyes, and though he didn't know why, he understood the sentiment.

The next text she received really was from her "boyfriend".

Grantaire decided not to comment on her phone buzzing, figuring it was probably another sketchy text from her father.

She responded quickly. Montparnasse was wondering where she was. With an exaggerated eye roll, she shoved her phone back in the ripped pocket of her jeans.

After an awkward silence too long for Grantaire to handle, he cleared his throat. Silence bothered him. It made him squirm. "Look 'Ponine. Look. I'm not gonna tell anyone, promise. Cross my fucking heart. What in the hell are you and your father talking about?"

Éponine returned his question with a glare, crossing her arms pointedly and looking out the window with squinted eyes.

"Éponine. I'll stay here all night until you fucking tell me."

"I'll walk home."

"You won't." With a resigned sighs, Grantaire locked all of the doors.

"This is creepy as fuck, you know that? First you're snooping through my texts and now you're locking me in your car? I'll break this door. I'll fucking do it."

Grantaire returned her threat with an insolent smirk which appeared on his face very often. "Come on."

"No."

"Éponine."

"Grantaire."

"Come on."

"Fine."

"Really?"

"No."

After nearly an hour of randomly dispersed silences and arguments, Éponine, out of the blue, let out a scream that seemed to pierce through Grantaire's ears and make the whole car shake. As her scream lasted for longer than it should have, she stomped her feet on the dirty floor of the car.

At this point, Grantaire realized she must be pure crazy and slowly reached over to unlock the door. Éponine burst out and started to run home, though her posture was so poor that she looked rather odd doing so.

Grantaire decided never to cross this girl again unless he was in the mood to share a joint or a bottle of wine.

\--------

In the rundown apartment where the Thénardiers lived, there were many unpleasant sounds to be heard. There was the constant chorus of police sirens and dogs barking, the soft pitter-patter of mice (and a few rats mixed in there) scurrying about, and the constant shouting of other tenants, whether it was at their significant other, a dog barking outside, or an upstairs neighbor who was getting lucky a little bit too loudly. 

Despite all these sounds constantly surrounding her, Éponine couldn't help but notice the absence of one very disturbing sound she had gotten quite used to, which was the loud, off-key, creaky singing of their next door neighbor. She was an old, old woman and her name was never revealed, so the people in their hallway took to calling her "dreads lady" due to the frizzy, droopy dread locks she had worn since she first moved in. At any given moment, she could be heard singing to herself, the same chorus very time.

Swing low, sweet chariot   
Coming for to carry me home   
Swing low, sweet chariot   
Coming for to carry me home 

This melody was only silenced when the woman slept, which she didn't do often. And she never went to sleep at five in the evening, which was the time when Éponine walked in the door.

Shrugging it off, Éponine was thrilled to find her parents out of the apartment. Azelma, as usual, sat in their bedroom doing homework, which made her only a slight nuisance.

There could never be silence in the apartment, but the constant noise had become familiar to Éponine, so familiar that it felt like silence. With a long sigh, she flopped on the couch, squeezing her eyes shut and running a bony hand through her hair. Without a moment of peace, her head began pounding. She cursed under her breath. For a moment, her throat became thick with tears, though the tears never reached her eyes. Having her parents home made her sick. It really did. Their constant bickering and shouting and threatening made her stomach churn and her entire body tremble. As much as she lied and pretended, she was terrified of them. An entire life of terror with her parents did not prepare her for any given day. 

But without the fear her parents and their friends instilled in her, she was left to her own mind. The noises which became equivalent to silence were not enough to distract her from the terrifying thoughts running through her mind. Still, tears felt stuck behind her eyes. More than anything, she wanted them to be gone, to be all cried out. She wanted her pain to be gone with one outburst of emotion. She wanted to be able to experience a sober moment of peace without being scared of what she would do to herself. The drinking only made it worse in the long run, her delusions more frequent, more violent. But for a peaceful night, she would risk it. 

Clutching a ratty strand of hair, she threw the liquor cabinet open. 

Empty. 

How could it be empty? 

Fiercely, she shook her head in disbelief. This never happened. In a moment of realization, she looked around to realize that the adjacent cabinet was empty too. All of the cabinets were. The fridge was, too. The dishwasher, too. Before considering how odd this was, Éponine sank to the floor, head burrowed into her hands. She pulled repeatedly on her hair, hoping to distract herself from the hell in her mind. There was no way Éponine could function in this environment for much long while sober. No way. Her whole body was concentrated in the effort to remain calm and let herself drift off into a sleep long enough to fix everything. 

Her efforts proved useless. 

\----

Unfortunately, amidst the constant noise of the apartment building, Azelma's scream was not out of the ordinary. Nobody came to her aid after three high-pitched screams that rang throughout the entire building, no doubt. She continued to scream, eyes fixated on her sister's limp body on the bathroom floor. The only slight comfort to Azelma was the shallow breaths moving her sister's abdomen. She wasn't dead, but without help, it wouldn't be too long.

Despite the disturbed and terrified turning of her insides, Azelma could not avert her glance from the pool of blood surrounding Éponine's deeply cut wrists. As she continued to screech and sob, a myriad of thoughts ran through her mind so that none of them could have a moment of consideration. How could a tiny razor make such deep wounds? When did this happen? Why did Azelma hear nothing? How had she not seen this coming? Had Éponine been acting off lately? Had she failed to notice her own sister's cries for help? 

The only thought she gave slight consideration was the ridiculously wishful thought that perhaps this had not been self-inflicted. Maybe somebody broke in, they made the crime looked as if Éponine had done it herself so that the real perpetrator would not be caught. 

Interrupting her desperate cries for help, an unfamiliar blonde woman, whose kind face alone comforted the distressed Azelma, rushed to her side.

The woman's face went pale, though it was clear that she tried to remain calm. 

"Sweetheart, it— it will be alright. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?" 

Azelma, at first, could only respond with furious head shaking and whimpers. After a moment, she collected herself just enough to respond. "Don't kn— I don't. I don't know. My sister— I th— I think somebody hurt her." 

"Okay, okay, sweetie. Sh, it's okay." With furrowed brows, the blonde woman called across the hallway. 

"Cosette!" She shouted, reaching to squeeze Azelma's hand, "Call 911!"


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Éponine's disastrous night   
> *same trigger warnings from Chapter 13 apply*

Montparnasse had his chemistry homework splayed out on the table when his phone started buzzing. After an exaggerated eye roll, he reluctantly reached out to answer it. He tried to resist the urge to use his phone during his designated homework time, but he figured he deserved a break anyways after a straight hour of nonstop work. 

"Hello?" He did not recognize the number calling, immediately putting on a haughty voice as he answered. 

"Hi! Is this Montparnasse?" The voice on the other side of the phone was sweet and smooth. It sounded like the kind of voice that would narrate a science video. 

"Yes. May I ask who is calling and why?" As he realized this conversation may be more than a wrong number or a drug transaction, he settled with crossed legs on the couch. 

The woman took a careful breath before she proceeded. "Okay. I'm with your friends, Azelma and Éponine. Um, every—" 

He cut her off there. "Who the fuck are you and what are you going to do with her?" 

"No, no, don't worry! We're at the hospital. Azelma is safe. Éponine is in good hands." 

"What the fuck does that mean? In good hands? With who?" As he spoke, the door was thrown open and be burst out without having closed it. 

\----

Luckily, Mont had learned how to drive steadily while under immense stress from paying his dues as a getaway driver. No matter how many times he told himself he was done dealing with Éponine and the 'issues' that seemed to plague her daily. As much as he told himself that his could time could be much better spent, he constantly found himself dropping everything to help his troubled friend.

A million thoughts ran through his mind as he clutched the wheel. Despite Éponine's fragile mental state, Mont found himself consumed with sickening anxiety each time Éponine stumbled upon danger. Why the fuck did he do that all the time? If he weren't filled with nerves, he would have groaned irritably. But he couldn't muster it at the moment.

When he first arrived at the hospital after a painful car ride, he saw no familiar faces. Azelma was trembling in the corner, not exactly catching his eye.

A familiar, sweet voice was calling his name. The owner of this voice placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You're Montparnasse."

"What happened? Who the hell are you?"

At the sound of his ever so slightly shaking voice, Azelma let out a whimper and then muffled the following cries with her hand so as not to alarm Montparnasse any more, but he only grew more frightened.

"I'm Fantine. My daughter and I were moving in down the hall from Éponine and Azelma when we heard screaming. Azelma found—" She paused. The kind lilt in her voice evaporated.

"Found...?" Montparnasse demanded, tapping his foot indignantly.

"Éponine. She was— hurt. Azelma thinks somebody might have broken in. She says there are a few sketchy men who might seek this kind of revenge on your friend..."

Mont shook his head furiously. "Where?"

"The bathroom."

"I mean, where on her fucking body? What exactly happened?" As he prepared himself for an answer that couldn't possibly be favorable, he, followed by Fantine, sank down in a stiff chair.

"Her arms. I'm going to be honest with you, honey, they were very deep. She lost a lot of blood."

Bullshit. Immediately, Mont knew very well that those wounds were not from anyone but Éponine herself. Out of all the crises he had dealt with, this one was by far the most terrifying, the most life-threatening. 

His pale skin somehow grew paler. Figuring he needed some space, Fantine stepped back and offered reassurance to Azelma.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop imagining Éponine passing away. He imagined the nurse stepping out of the room somberly and delivering the grave news. He imagined Azelma screaming, the doctors having to restrain her. He imagined facing school again, without his partner in crime (sometimes literally), without his best friend, without his other half. Without the one person he could not live without.

While he wore a twisted expression, he was not one to cry or scream or show any outwardly signs of the panic inside of him. He sat and fixed his eyes on the bland, white wall in front of him. His reaction to the seemingly impending death of his best friend was solely internal. Everything inside of him felt about ready to implode.

All of the memories made with Éponine, whether good, bad, terrifying, hilarious, painful, illegal, dumb, irrelevant or outstandingly significant, began to play in his mind one by one.

This show went on in his head for some time until a heavy black cloud fell upon it. This black cloud, gloomy and impossible to avoid, was the fact that Éponine had legitimately tried to end her own life. It wasn't an empty threat, it wasn't a joke.

This time, it was real. Montparnasse found himself unable to understand why anyone would seek a way out in such a way. Why would someone attempt to kill themselves, he wondered?

Éponine brought up the subject before, of course. She often joked darkly about how she would throw herself off of a cliff or shoot herself in the head, and though these jokes pissed him off, Mont never thought they were a cry for help. Many times, she stated matter of factly that she would die before twenty-five. Again, Mont saw no reason to fret. It was just her morbid sense of humor, he thought.

With a sudden shift in thought, he considered the possibility that perhaps his friend was alive. He knew Éponine to be a fighter, a survivor. If she wanted to survive, she would. He had every bit of confidence that she would. But if she wished to be dead, he wasn't so sure. In fact, he had no idea. Instead of waiting around for any longer and weighing out the possibilities in his mind, he decided to take a little walk, maybe getting his legs moving would distract him from his insides feeling as if they'd caved in.

As he made his way towards the gift shop area, he heard a soft whisper arising from someone sitting in a little chair next to the vending machine.

The voice was trembling. "Oh, Marius, I—I can't even tell you. T-There was just blood—" She stopped, nodding along to whatever encouragement her boyfriend was sending over the phone.

Before the tiny brunette could speak again, her phone was smacked out of her petite hands in a sudden burst of anger by Montparnasse.

His deep brown eyes were on fire, scarred fists were clenched and nostrils flared. He couldn't explain why he was suddenly filled with so much anger towards Cosette, but it only grew stronger as he continued to stand tall before her.

Cosette took a slow, deep breath and clutched her hands together to try and stop the shaking. He needed to get his anger out somehow, she reasoned. It was only fair to let him work through his emotions after what had happened to somebody she knew to be very close to him.

Using an iota of common sense, Mont didn't grab the girl by the hair like he wanted to. He knew who she was. Of course he did. It suddenly clicked that the kind blonde woman was her mother. This was the girl who Éponine constantly scowled about. Still, his hatred for Cosette was pure and strong, and in a moment of intense emotion, it became clear to her.

"You know what? Fuck you! Fuck you and your snobby ass fucking boyfriend too! You wanna complain about how this was fucking traumatic for you? How about the girl who's bleeding to death in a hospital bed? Do you think she's crying to her little boyfriend on the phone? She's not. You know why? Because she's unconscious, because, why? Why's that again? Right! Because her life was such a living hell, she literally tried to fucking kill herself. You're a selfish bitch, you know that?" Without another word, Mont stormed off in the other direction, his face red with anger and, much to his chagrin, tears about to fall. 

Cosette had the sense to hang up the phone once she picked it up, instead of responding to the frantic cries on the other end, shouting her name.

But from that moment, she couldn't stop thinking about poor Montparnasse. What he must've been going through. Cosette herself was too hopeful to pronounce Éponine dead at this point, but she understood how Mont might. She couldn't imagine the pain he must be enduring— it seemed to her that Éponine and Montparnasse had a similar bond to her and her mother. They seemed inseparable, like they could face any hardship hand in hand.

And now he had to face this alone. Or at least that's what he thought.

\------ 

Fantine and Cosette wanted more than anything to help those involved in the unfortunate situation they walked in on, but after a brief conversation following Montparnasse's explosion, they decided that their presence at the hospital was unnecessary. Due to her currently fragile state, they decided to take Azelma home. 

To their surprise, she didn't put up much of a fight. Of course, they knew Montparnasse would not agree to such a thing.

So, after waiting for six hours and hearing nothing from the staff, Azelma, Fantine, and Cosette left with the intention of calming Azelma down in a slightly less terrifying environment, giving Mont some space and returning later. At this point, it looked like Azelma needed a long nap.

After seven hours of waiting Montparnasse decided to take matters into his own hands. Nurses kept entering, calling a name that wasn't Éponine's, and leaving again. Growing increasingly frustrated and anxious, he stood up abruptly and marched up to the desk where a tired-looking older woman sat.

"I'm with Éponine Thénardier and I'd like to see her right now." His nose was in the air as he spoke, and his voice quivered slightly. But he chose to ignore that.

"Sir, you're going to have to wait a bit longer. Sorry."

Not before kicking the desk furiously, Mont stormed off and plopped moodily back into his uncomfortable seat. Nobody in that waiting room would even consider going anywhere near him with the terrifying scowl he was wearing. Impatiently, he waited and waited and finally, a tall, white-haired man who looked like he knew what he was doing approached. Finally, her doctor.

"You're with Éponine Thénardier, yes?" 

"Yes. What's going on?" Mont understood that he couldn't explode at the man who his friend's life depended on. His tone remained even and as smooth as he could manage. 

"Come into the hallway with me." Dr. Hirsch, as it read on his identification tag, said promptly, closing the door behind them. 

"Fortunately, Éponine was admitted before too much blood was lost. She may be at risk for anemia, but she has not experienced any of the symptoms." 

"So she's okay." Montparnasse breathed, holding a hand to his forehead and grinning. It was as if the past seven hours of anxiety, fear and grief had disappeared. He almost felt a bit dizzy. Clearing his throat, he attempted to keep his cool. 

"Physically, she is out of the woods. Her wounds are being treated effectively and her blood is just below average at this point." Dr. Hirsch cleared his throat before speaking again and he put on his 'bad news' face. 

Mont frowned. "...But?" 

"Now, Éponine's sister neither saw nor heard any evidence, but insisted that her sister was attacked by a home invader. After speaking with the patient and examining the wounds, my team and I have come to the conclusion that this was an attempted suicide." 

Mont nodded slowly. He had known this all along, but to hear it directly from the doctor himself, he felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. He became slightly numb. 

"If you've been speaking with her, does that mean I can?" Mont asked after a moment dedicated to collecting himself and shaking off the numbness consuming him. 

"I'm sorry, you can't. At the moment, I'd say you might be able to see your friend tomorrow night. She'll stay over night and will be admitted to the crisis center tomorrow to be interviewed, evaluated and prevented from acting on any future suicidal impulses. If she gives her consent, you or another loved one may be asked a series of questions to gage her mental state. We will be in contact. Have you any last questions before you go?" 

It was a lot to take in. All Montparnasse could do was shake his head and turn on his heel. But he certainly wasn't going. 

\------

Cosette could certainly never be considered a gossip. The only person she told of her unfortunate encounter with the Thénardiers was Marius. Marius was no gossip, either. He only told his best friend, Courfeyrac. Unlike Cosette and Marius, Courf was known to be quite the gossip.

By the next morning, everyone in school had heard. Everyone.

Courfeyrac reasonably did not hold himself responsible for this, but he did feel some bit of guilt. Sure, this girl had come up with a crazy, convoluted plan to break up his best friend and girlfriend, and, of course, pushed him off of the monkey bars in third grade, but he was still sickened to hear that somebody would have the audacity and cruelty to break into her home and attack her. He decided that if she came back, he would try his best to be kind to her. This would be hard since she had never put in much of an effort with him, but he thought it only fair. That's what his father had advised him to do, anyway.

Living in the relatively safe area that they did, hearing about what they thought was a weapon-yielding home invader was a shock Courf and his classmates. It was terrifying to them, really. Would this criminal come after them next? What if the perpetrator was in the school? And nobody had any idea what really happened. 

But of course, the show must go on. And though Éponine didn't serve much of a purpose in the show, Montparnasse's absence affected the cast quite a bit more. The usual energy wasn't quite present either. The two leads, Cosette and Courfeyrac, were both more than little affected by the whole incident.

Before their director arrived, the auditorium was significantly quieter than usual.

With furrowed eyebrows, Cosette leaned gently into Marius's shoulder.

"My mom is at the hospital right now with Azelma, but she won't respond to my texts." She whispered into his hair, her voice not nearly as chipper as usual. 

"It's okay, Cosette. Everything will be okay and she is probably too busy visiting with Éponine or filling out discharge paperwork. Don't worry." His words were so sincere and delivered with so much confidence that Cosette even smiled a little. It didn't even occur to her that Marius knew even less of the situation than she did. 

Even in a less than happy moment for her, she could reflect gratefully on the beautiful aspect of their relationship where they always supported each other. After finding out how Marius's grandfather treated him, she took to calling him every single night promptly at seven to make sure that he was okay, and could tell he wasn't when his responses grew shorter and accented with less emotion. He was right by her side when the stress of her father leaving hit her, when her and Fantine were forced to move out of their big, comfortable house and into the rundown apartment building where they encountered the Thénardiers while moving in. In fact, Marius had arranged to help Fantine and Cosette move in to the apartment (now that Fantine had accepted that he was a nice boy who was good for her daughter and not a dirtbag like her estranged husband) on the day when they were welcomed to the building by Azelma's screams, but his grandfather had other plans for him. This aspect of their relationship was enough to put a slight smile on her face, even in a hard time. 

"I guess you must be right. She would call me right away with very bad news if there was any, wouldn't she?" 

"Of course she would. Your mother would call you immediately." He pressed a soft kiss to her head as he heard Musichetta's voice ringing through the auditorium. 

"Alright, alright. Hey, what's with the negative vibes getting thrown at me right now? Come on, let's run this thing. Cosette, Courf, up on stage. Combeferre, let's get the marketplace scene going, alright?" 

Cosette and Courfeyrac slowly dragged themselves onto the stage, sharing look of dread before half-heartedly beginning the scene. 

As soon as they began, Musichetta let out a petulant sigh. "Nope. This isn't happening today, is it? I don't know what this dark cloud hanging over you guys is, but whatever it is, I'll give you today to work it out. How's that? Go home, get some rest. Rehearsal dismissed." 

Before everybody could leave, she stopped once more. "Where's Montparnasse? It's not even his conflict day, he should be here. He knows this is unacceptable, to neglect rehearsal this way when he plays a principle role. Where is he? Anyone?" 

"He's got something going on. He probably won't be here tomorrow either." Cosette spoke up, frowning slightly. 

"Something going on? He didn't email me, I didn't get a call from his mother or father. Cosette, might I ask what's going on?" 

"Family emergency." She responded quickly, beginning to gather her bags so she wouldn't be interrogated further. It wasn't her place to tell anyone, except of course, the exception of her boyfriend. 

With Marius tagging along behind her, Cosette made her way out with auditorium with haste. 

"Oh darn," Cosette muttered to herself upon realizing she had nowhere to go, as she didn't know how to get to her disgusting new home and didn't have her mother to drive her there. 

"Cosette? What is it? Has your mother been in contact with you?" Marius ran a gentle finger down her jawline.

"No, I just don't know how to get home." 

"No worries," Courfeyrac answered with a slightly defeated tone, popping up behind the couple, "You two can come over. I think that's what we all need, right?" 

"That would be wonderful." Cosette grinned, thrilled that she wouldn't be forced to sit alone in that creepy, dark apartment.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac, Cosette & Marius dish while some important developments take place at the hospital. *trigger warning from last two chapters applies*

Courfeyrac's father was beyond thrilled about Cosette's involvement in Marius's life. Before Marius fell completely head over heels in love, he always seemed to have a sad air about him, even when he was goofing off with Courf. The distant sadness had disappeared from his eyes and in its place was the hopeful glint of love. Of course, Vincent had never seen Marius and Cosette together, but based off of Marius's new attitude and the way Courf spoke so highly of his leading lady and best friend's girlfriend, he knew it was a good match. 

Finally meeting Cosette was a delight. It seemed to him that sunshine followed her everywhere she went. And he was catching her on a bad day, too. 

As the three friends made their way to the basement to hang out, Vincent stopped them. 

"Hello! Marius? Aren't you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?" Vincent grinned, extending a hand to Cosette. "You must be the famous Cosette! I've heard only wonderful things about you. I'm Vincent." 

"Yes, I'm Cosette. And famous, really?" She giggled, "That's very good to know. Thank you, it's very nice to meet you!" 

Courfeyrac dragged the two of them off as they waved goodbye to Courf's dad.

"Sorry, my dad is so— I don't know. So overbearing." Courf rolled his eyes, chuckling and running a hand through his curls. 

"Courf, you stop that!" Cosette scolded, "He is very, very sweet. There is nothing wrong with your father showing a little interest in the people and the things you care about." 

Though her tone was sweet as always, Courf could sense he had hit a sensitive spot (after having heard all of the messy details about Cosette's father from Marius) and nodded obediently. "Fair enough. He's a cool guy." 

Cosette and Marius nodded along thoughtfully, both a little unsure as to whether Courf realized he was addressing two fatherless children at the moment. 

Not quite able to leave that mindset, Marius suddenly blurted, "Don't you think it's odd that not one of the three of us has two parents? Cosette has one mom, Courf has one dad, and I have one...grandfather." 

"Yeah man. Kinda sad, isn't it?" Courf frowned slightly as he put his feet up on the coffee table. "But hey, I never really met my mother and Cosette's father is a douchebag anyways." 

Cosette looked as if she was about to protest, but instead shook her head in defeat. "Very true." 

Neither Cosette nor Courfeyrac felt it would be fair to bombard Marius with questions about his grandfather at that moment, but plenty of thoughts popped into both of their minds. 

Changing the subject before things got too heavy, after a day that had already been heavy enough, Courfeyrac started a three way game of Mario Kart on the TV. 

"See you at the finish line, suckers!" He shouted, putting his game face on. 

It was quite the game of Mario Kart. Cosette didn't know that the shells she kept getting were meant to be thrown at her opponents. Marius drove slowly, trying his best to actually drive well and safely, neglecting the race part of the game. 

"You know what I like about you two?" Courfeyrac mused out of the blue while he waited for Marius and Cosette to finish the damn course.

"Our dashing good looks?" Cosette joked, squinting her eyes as she tried to navigate her way out of a patch of mud. 

"Well that, and that you aren't difficult to be with. You know those couples who won't stop making out and don't even talk to you when you hang out with them? Those couples fucking suck to hang with. Like hey, I'm here too, you know? You guys aren't like that. Yeah, you hold hands and shit but I don't feel like I'm intruding on something and it's genuinely fun to third wheel instead of dreadful." 

"We wouldn't want to push our friend away by being aggressively touchy-feely," Marius nodded, taking his eyes off the road for a minute to smile at his best friend.

"Aw, thank you, Courf!" Cosette grinned, suddenly pausing the game and turning to sit cross legged facing Courfeyrac. "Speaking of which— is there anybody you're interested in? You're a very flirtatious boy, I bet there's someone you have your sights set on, isn't there?" 

"You can't tell anyone." Courfeyrac sighed without putting up a fight. It was useless. Courf was an open book. Whenever he had a crush on somebody, the whole school knew within a couple hours. He couldn't ever keep secrets to himself. But this time, not one person knew about his crush and he wasn't sure he wanted this one gossiped about by his classmates. The guy he'd been crushing on just wouldn't be into that. 

"We won't!" Marius and Cosette promised at the same time. They giggled and high fived. Courfeyrac mock rolled his eyes. 

"Okay, so you know Combeferre from crew?" He whispered, turning a vibrant shade of red. He had never been so secretive about a crush before. 

"Oh my gosh!" Cosette squealed, looking back to share a grin with her boyfriend. "He is adorable! Oh my gosh, he's perfect for you!"

"Have you even met him?" Courf squinted, continuing to blush as he dropped his head. 

"It doesn't matter if I've met him, Courf, I still feel the chemistry. And you two would look really great together." 

"Sorry, who is he again? I can't quite place the name." Marius furrowed his brows. For someone who was fluent in three languages, Marius had always been awful at remembering names and faces. 

"How do I even describe him?" Courf swooned, dramatically holding a hand to his heart. "Okay, so he's got this brownish-blonde hair that is so scruffy and he doesn't really brush it, but ugh that somehow makes it better. And he wears these wire frame glasses that are so outdated but on him, they just look...perfect." 

"Oh, that guy. He seems like a really nice guy!" Marius smiled, nodding profusely in approval. 

"You really, really like him, don't you? I can tell." Cosette grinned. 

"Yeah, I really, really do." 

\------

Meanwhile, Cosette's mother was not having nearly as much fun as her daughter. After Montparnasse relayed the information he'd been given by Éponine's doctor, things sort of fell apart.

Slowly, Montparnasse looked for a way to word it. Usually, he wouldn't give a flying fuck how Azelma felt, but if he couldn't talk to Éponine right now, he might as well be kind to her sister. "Look, Azelma, nobody broke into your apartment. Your sister wasn't attacked. She did that to herself. She was— trying to kill herself." After he delivered the news, he bit down hard on his bottom lip.

Azelma shook her head profusely. She was in an odd place, not herself at all. She'd missed school that day and had not thought about it once. Her homework, usually done right when she arrived home, was laying untouched on her bed. And for such an intelligent girl, she had continued to be blissfully ignorant to the fact that her big sister attempted suicide for so long. She continued to shake her head, but didn't say a word. 

"Azelma?" Mont said softly. Fantine turned and gave him a sad look and then placed a reassuring hand on Azelma's bony shoulder. 

"She won't do it again." He tried, rather numb himself now that he had spent 24 hours in the hospital reacting. Still nothing from Azelma.

"But she will be okay," Fantine cooed, tucking Azelma's hair behind her ears in her motherly way. "She might be home tomorrow and everything will be okay." 

"Azelma, she—" 

"No!" Azelma suddenly screamed, bolting out of her seat and attracting the confused eyes of everybody else in the waiting room. "She didn't do that! She wouldn't do that, she wouldn't!" Each word came out in a breathless scream. Hiding it with his hands, Montparnasse began to cry uncontrollably. 

Fantine squeezed Mont's knee reassuringly before standing up to console the screaming Azelma. He continued to cry, still trying to hide it as if nobody noticed. 

A soft-faced older man frowned sympathetically at Mont from across the room, only to have his pity returned with a menacing scowl. 

Even after having his kind look scowled at, the kindly old man continued to look sympathetically at Montparnasse. 

Instead of evoking a scowl from the inconsolable boy, the kind look only caused more tears. Forgetting momentarily about his image and his dignity, Montparnasse openly cried into his hands. He clutched desperately at his hair as if that would make anything better.

He didn't quite understand why he was so worked up. It was certain now that she was going to survive. Her blood loss was not severe. She would be home sometime within the week. Maybe even that night, if the evaluations went smoothly. But some part of him had still broken, still causing his angst and tears. 

Maybe it was the fear, he thought. For hours just the day before, he had feared that the person closest to him could have died. Even though he was certain she would survive this, that sensation still chilled him. 

After some more careful consideration, he was only more distraught. So many horrible thoughts occupied his mind. Would this only be the first of many attempts? Could a future attempt possibly be successful? He had already spent way too much time imagining his life without her. He stopped himself from doing it anymore. It hurt too much. 

Once Fantine and Azelma retuned, Mont had collected himself a bit more. Though his breaths remained uneven, the tears no longer flowed and he didn't even attempt to hide his blotchy face, didn't even have the mind to consider how awful he must have looked, which was very out of character. He really was in distress. 

"Are you alright, Montparnasse?" Fantine whispered, reaching out to wipe his tears but pulling her hand back when she realized that such a gesture may not be appreciated. 

"Yes. I'm fine. I'm not the one who had a tantrum stormed out of the room." He muttered, crossing his arms superiorly as if he hadn't just cried his eyes out. 

Azelma frowned, but didn't protest.

"You are Montparnasse, correct?" Asked the familiar, aging doctor.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Come with me." The man instructed, walking quickly into the hallway the two had talked in the day before.

"What is it?" Montparnasse furrowed his eyebrows, hoping he could see Éponine but trying not to get his hopes up.

"We've permitted Éponine to have one half hour visit and she requested you. Follow me."

As he followed the doctor down the hallway, Mont's heart seemed to beat out of his chest. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he tried to think of what he would say. What would be appropriate? He knew she wouldn't want pity, but of course he was full of it. Shaking his head, disheveled hair in his face, he deemed this task impossible. He would just have to wait and see what would be said.

When the door was pushed open, Mont's eyes immediately met Éponine's, accented by heavy bags.

No matter how he tried to prevent them, tears welled up in his dark eyes as he finally saw her.

In an uncharacteristically clumsy manner, he ran to the bed she rested on. She'd kicked the blankets off and sat cross-legged. Of course, not once had Mont ever seen her look content in their entire friendship. But now she looked worse. The mischievous, adventurous glint in her eyes had all but disappeared. She looked as if everything but her despair and anger had been sucked out of her and she was made solely of despair and anger.

As he gawked at her, he couldn't help but let the hot tears fall. This was worse than he could have imagined.

"Éponine." He spat out, tempted to reach for her hand but thinking against it.

"Why are you crying?" She muttered, lacking the gusto she usually used when teasing Mont. Her words seemed empty.

"I'm sorry." He proceeded with caution. "Uh, what's going on?"

"Nothing exciting, considering this room is under fucking surveillance and I'm not even allowed to eat with a plastic knife."

"Huh. That sucks." His eyes froze on her bandaged wrists, squinting to prevent more tears from falling. He couldn't help but notice that the room was bare, he guessed it was so that there were no possible instruments of self harm. It was eerie.

"Yeah, sure does. Do you want to stop fucking crying? It's stupid as fuck." Her lips were in a thin line and she crossed her bandaged arms severely.

"God, Ép, sorry. It's not like I thought you died or anything."

"Yeah, no, I'm here."

"Aren't you supposed to be hopped up on happy pills or something?" His weak attempt at a joke did not lighten the mood in the least.

"Not since they're convinced I have a substance problem or some shit."

"That's not shit, it's true." He didn't think before he spoke. After saying this, he prepared himself for a conversation he had been dreading. For 24 hours he had waited patiently to see her, and now he was disappointed and sad.

"What are you, my mom or something? Calm down. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. I don't have substance problem." She hissed, hoping the nurses listening in on this conversation didn't keep her for any extra evaluations or anything.

He shook his head tearfully, being hit hard by the reality of her 'issues' which he'd recently proclaimed that he was 'done with'. "It's not healthy to get drunk every day before and after school. And the daily pack of fucking cigarettes doesn't help either. I guess this is probably a fucking relief to you, but this shit's gonna kill you. Let me guess. You were drunk when you did this." He gestured carelessly at her wrists.

She shook her head in defense, a new vigor in her. She gestured for him to come closer so she could whisper into his ear. "No, I wasn't. Completely sober. That's why I did it, Mont. That's why." For the first time since he'd entered the eerie hospital room, she showed raw emotion. Tears filled her eyes, too. "If I tell you something, do you promise to tell nobody else?"

"I won't tell anyone, Ép. I promise."

"I was alone and there was no booze in the house. None. I think my parents raided the place and ran off somewhere." Before continuing, she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. How could she describe the darkness that consumed her mind without being confined to an asylum? "When I don't have any of my— my vices, and I'm alone, I see things and I hear things. I— it's stupid. You'll think a fucking psycho."

"Don't you dare say that. Tell me more, please." His eyes filled with tears but he wouldn't let them fall. He needed to show her he could cope and maybe she could, too."

"There was a voice in my head, Mont. I swear. I'm not crazy, it was there. I'm not crazy. I can't remember much from there. The voice told me to kill myself. I'm not lying, and I'm not crazy. It was there." She sobbed, voice cracking on every other word. She grabbed his hand, bowing her head as she collected a few deep breaths. "I don't remember anything after that. I can't. I don't even remember cutting myself. I really don't. I don't know..."

He nodded firmly, biting down hard on his lip in an attempt to push back the tears. "I believe you." He climbed quickly onto the creaky bed and pulled her tiny body into his arms. She didn't protest. As she buried her head into his shoulder, his smooth hand ran up and down her back. His entire body was frozen. What could he possibly do to stop her body from shaking, to stop her tears from collecting?

Upon checking the clock, Mont remembered they only had fifteen minutes left together. 

"Mont, I can't be labeled as a substance abuser. Everything will be taken away from me and I won't be able to—" Her voice shook so much, he could hardly understand her. 

What could he say? He believed what she said, but somehow it didn't seem right to promote her excessive drinking and smoking. At least she wasn't into anything heavier, right? Like heroin or cocaine. It could be worse, he decided. 

They spoke softly so as not to be heard. "I won't tell them you drink or smoke. I believe you. Please, do whatever you need to do to be okay. Don't mean to sound selfish, but I don't know if I can handle this again." 

"You'll be fine." She whispered into his shoulder, grasping him tighter. "This won't happen again as long as we refill the liquor cabinet, yeah?" 

"We will. Don't worry. I never want this to happen again. Ép, I thought you died, asshole." 

"I didn't die, so who's the asshole now?" Her laugh was hollow, but at least she wasn't crying anymore.

"I love you so fucking much, Éponine." Mont squeezed her one last time and then climbed off of the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. 

"You're the only person I wanted to see. You know I love you." She smiled slightly. 

Despite his heart beating out of his chest and his burning desire to lean forward and kiss her and never stop, he left the room with a small wave just as his time ran out. 

"She's going to be okay." Mont announced to Azelma and Fantine with a grin. "She is, and this is never going to happen again. Never." 

While relief filled every inch of his body, he couldn't help but dwell on the surge of love he felt that was much more than friendly. Suddenly, it all seemed right to him. He knew exactly what he needed to do.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine is in the home stretch and Mont isn't quite sure how to feel.

Assured that Éponine would be home soon enough, Mont worked up the strength to face school the next day. It was Friday, anyways. One more day and then it would be February break. 

His newfound feelings for Éponine fueled him. He dreamed of how he would finally profess his love for her once she arrived home. Smiling goofily, Mont wondered how he had spent fifteen years being Éponine's best friend without his romantic love for her bombarding him. Now, it seemed so strong it felt as if it had always been there. Of course they were meant to be. His only obstacle was the possibility of disinterest on her behalf. No. He shook his head. It was clear now to him that her coldness towards him had been an act all along. She knew they were meant to be all along. 

Of course, he was aware that the girl he had his sights set on would come with plenty of baggage. Honestly, the things whispered in his ears at the hospital were unfathomably terrifying to him. The delusions, the voices in her head. He would never forget the wide-eyed, uncharacteristically childish look her eyes took on as she told him. These confessions weren't only horrifying to him, she was equally frightened by what occurred inside of her. Éponine was sick. He knew it. Before that conversation in the hospital, he'd had no idea to what extent, and despite all the joy running through him as he considered the impending romance, the utter terror was always sitting in the back of his mind. 

But no matter what demons plagued her, he could not see himself falling in love with anybody else. He hadn't chosen her. It seemed fate had. Of course, Mont had always been a closeted hopeless romantic, though he'd never even been in love before. This was love. What he felt for Éponine was love and he would do whatever it took to show her and get some love from her in return. With a slight smirk, he thought to himself that sobriety wasn't what she needed. It was love. Cheesy, right? He even knew it.

Racking his mind for the proper romantic gesture, he almost passed the school as he drove in. Pulling into the depressing parking lot pulled him down from his cloud. 

Walking into first period math without Éponine was far from unusual. More often than not, Ép didn't show up to first period anyways. Although this time, tapping his pencil wouldn't pass the time until she eventually slipped through the door. She wasn't coming today. How disappointing to have nothing to look forward to.

Things were actually a lot easier now that he had admitted to himself how he really felt. He didn't have to question himself as to why he cared so much about Éponine's attendance. 

Throughout the entire class period, he kept receiving funny looks from his fellow classmates except for Cosette, Marius and Courfeyrac. They seemed to pointedly avoid his eyes. After a couple days, Fauchelevent had given up on the bullshit seating plan and everybody sat where they wished again. 

When Montparnasse noticed this, it made him think of Éponine's joy when she was seated next to Marius. Without noticing, he scowled bitterly at Pontmercy. It all came back to him then, how Éponine was so into him. It suddenly made sense why he felt so bitter about the whole matter. Before Éponine went to the hospital, Mont had always felt so bitter about her feelings towards Marius but never knew why. He used to tell himself that he was looking out for his friend.

He still knew not why Éponine fell for Marius. From Mont's point of view, the guy didn't have much substance. Sure, he had a pretty face and a proper upbringing but he had a girlfriend anyways and no other redeeming qualities, in Mont's not so humble opinion.

He shook his head. No, he didn't need to worry. This boy was devoted to Cosette and Éponine's crush on him was stupid and superficial. He figured it had already passed by now, anyways. He spent the rest of the class dreaming of romance.

\-------

In a slight haze, Montparnasse shoved his way out of first period and failed to realize Cosette had tapped on his shoulder three times. 

Finally, he turned around after the fourth tap. "Yes?" He felt incredibly embarrassed around her. He was almost certain that Fantine had told Cosette of his little breakdown in the waiting room. Cosette must have known exactly how fucking weak he acted in that moment and it bothered him. A lot.

With a gentle smile, Cosette gestured for Mont to follow her as she stepped aside into a less crowded section of the hallway. "Hi. My mom just texted me an update you might like to hear."

"What is it?" Mont took a deep breath, trying his best to emotionally prepare himself in the case of an unpleasant announcement. Cosette's tone was ambiguous. She always spoke so sweetly, now he couldn't tell if it was bad or good news.

"Éponine is coming home tomorrow morning. They want her to stay in one more night. But, she's now open to visitors. My mom is picking me up after rehearsal and she says she can grab you and bring you to the hospital if you want. She gets anxious about you driving yourself when your nerves are like this."

Trying to stifle a grin in order to maintain what little dignity he had left, he nodded. "Sounds good. But I can drive myself. My car is here, anyways."

Cosette pursed her lips as she texted a response to her mother. "She's not taking no for an answer." She sighed, typing quickly again.

"I'm not getting in her fucking car."

With that, he stormed off. Despite being annoyed about Fantine treating him like a child, Montparnasse was thrilled. Tomorrow morning, he could finally begin to make his moves. And he was quite sure it wouldn't take long to land the object of his affections. Ladies had always loved him. Good looking and pretty mysterious, he was always able to turn heads and knew it, too. But now, there was only one head he needed to turn. Plus, after rehearsal, he'd see her.

With a slight smile, he took his time sauntering to his next class.

\-------

That rehearsal felt way too long. Cosette and Courfeyrac could not, for the life of them, get the marketplace scene down and it was exhausting to watch. Even Musichetta seemed to grow tired of it eventually.

After (in his opinion, on his behalf) a stirring scene with the sultan, Montparnasse was pulled aside in the darkness of the wings. "What the fuck?" He turned to see an unfortunately familiar face staring at his.

"Hey. Sorry 'bout that."

"What do you want?" Mont demanded, stamping his foot on the ground like a petulant toddler. He certainly wasn't in the mood. Not after spending the past two hours in rehearsal, unable to see Éponine. It wasn't like he could leave either. He was on thin ice already after missing the last rehearsal without any notice.

"I know you want nothing to do with me, and I respect that." Grantaire sighed, running a paint-covered hand through his hair. 

"Cut to the chase, bonehead. I'm on soon and you smell like weed and failure." 

"Okay then," Grantaire continued, "I'm wondering what the hell happened to your friend?" It was bugging him, not knowing. After seeing firsthand how batshit crazy she was, Grantaire thought there to be no limit to how crazy her accident might have been. 

"None of your business." 

Just the answer he had dreaded, but anticipated. "Éponine and I are friends, okay? I want to know what happened and I'm sorry for bothering you." In his tone, it was evident he was not sorry for bothering him. Though his usual sarcastic edge was softened, his essence always seemed a bit ironic. 

"She'll be back soon and she got in a fucking car accident, okay?" Mont clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch this jackass in the jaw. That would only get him in more trouble and he just wanted to get the hell out of school. 

"Send my greetings next time you make out with her." Grantaire mumbled, a smirk lining his lips.

"You know what? I will." Mont smirked right back, very appreciative of the fact that so many people thought them to be a thing. With that, he strolled onstage for his next scene, still smirking. 

\-----

Following a seemingly endless rehearsal that ended in Musichetta sending everybody home in frustration and halfheartedly wishing them a happy vacation, Mont was relieved to finally back out of the school parking lot. At first, he pointedly ignored the honking behind him, knowing very well it was Fantine and Cosette, until it became impossible to focus on anything else. Stopping so that they could pull up beside him, he slowly rolled down his creaky window.

"I'll see you at the hospital." He shouted across the lot, a slight eye roll following. 

"I don't feel comfortable with you driving yourself!" Fantine shouted back, lips pursed. She definitely noticed that eye roll. 

"I've been fine before. Like every single time." He groaned. His hands grasped the wheel again, showing he was ready to drive away.

Fantine herself hadn't been able to drive until she was about twenty-five and she didn't quite feel comfortable watching anybody young drive, though she never knew why that was. Cosette wasn't allowed to get her license until she turned eighteen. 

"I'm driving myself." 

"You need an adult with you to get in, don't you?" 

Mont weighed his options. Would it be unwise to reveal that he always had a fake ID on hand? Probably. Maybe he should just suffer through a ride with these ladies in order to avoid Fantine's prying, though well-intentioned. Lately, she had been oddly protective of him, acting like his mother.

With a long, long sigh, he parked his own truck and plopped into the backseat of Fantine's car. "Happy?"

"Very." Fantine answered, pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear before take off.

Awkward silence ensued for the first ten minutes of the car ride until Cosette spoke up.

"Does everybody hate Courf and me after our poor coordination during the marketplace scene?" She chuckled.

"I think so. I didn't notice, but the guys backstage did. That big, burly guy stamped his foot on the ground like, eighty times. I'm surprised it didn't shake the entire auditorium."

"Me too. I didn't even feel it." Cosette giggled. "By the way, how come you're such a good actor and I never knew about it? You're amazing. Honestly."

Anybody who knew Montparnasse knew that flattery was always the answer. "Yeah? Well thanks. I've never even acted before. I didn't know about my own talent!"

"I can't wait to see this show!" Fantine chimed in, smiling at him in the rearview mirror.

Really, the ride wasn't so bad. He would never admit it out loud, but Mont sort of felt good hanging around those two. They were nice. No games, no snarky remarks. Not that he didn't appreciate them from Éponine, but coming from anyone else, they got old very quickly. 

Mont practically jumped out of the car when it was barely parked. It was five o'clock, within visiting hours. He'd have an entire hour.

Azelma wasn't there, he couldn't help but notice. According to Fantine, she remained at catching up with her missed school work. Classic Azelma. Though he knew this wasn't a nice thought, Mont thought to himself that it was a good thing Azelma wasn't there to steal his quality time with Éponine.

Mont rapped on the door five times fast. When they were younger, this was a code Ép and him used and he wondered if she hadn't forgotten.

"Montparnasse?" Came a less than enthused voice through the door.

"Éponine." He grinned, bursting through the door once he was finished building up the suspense. "It's so exciting! You're gonna be—"

"You didn't tell anyone what I told you, did you?" Her voice dropped to a whisper as she beckoned for him to come closer.

"No, I didn't. Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because the fucking hospital has decided to involve my parents out of the blue. They just sprung this on me, and maybe it's because they think I'm at risk or some shit. Can you convince them I'm not? I cannot fucking do this. I don't understand why they can't just send them the bill. They're calling them and asking them to come in tomorrow morning. I mean, they probably won't but..." Her words were jumbled and frantic as she scratched at her hair desperately.

"They won't show up. They still haven't come home yet. Your parents are, like, missing. We'll deal with them getting the bill when it comes up, okay? And they don't know anything about what you told me. It's an obvious step to call in the parents." Since her little body didn't take up much room, he scooted onto the bed next to her and grabbed her hand to stop the scratching. He grasped her by the wrist as she looked to him with wide eyes.

"I just don't know what my dad would do if he knew." Slowly, she pulled her arm away from him, looking only slightly confused by his gesture.

"He won't. You're coming home tomorrow morning anyways, aren't you?"

"Am I? These assholes aren't telling me anything." She muttered, throwing her head back dramatically.

"I'm sure you are. Tomorrow morning, you get to come home. Believe me."

"I didn't say I didn't believe you. God. Why the fuck are you treating me like I'm five?" Éponine pointedly moved her crossed legs away from his.

"Calm down," Mont said, with a hint of laughter in his voice. The stubbornness was comforting and familiar. 

"Alright. Well, since I'm fine now, you can stop acting like a fucking hallmark card, okay? It pisses me off." Ép glared, avoiding eye contact. 

Despite his slightly hurt feelings, Mont managed a chuckle. "Your meds are making you pretty irritable, huh?"

"I'd say so. They're going down the drain when I get home." She rolled her eyes, slowly moving her legs closer to his. After a long sigh, she seemed to have softened a bit.

It took everything he had to keep his eyes off of her. He kept them glued to the ground. If he stole one look, he just knew that he'd give everything away. He couldn't look at her the same. 

"Don't freak out at me or anything, but you really shouldn't get rid of the meds." 

Without speaking, Éponine turned to him, eyes dull. 

"Don't give me that," Blushing, Montparnasse turned away from her. "You know you're getting them for a reason. You know, because they'll make you better. Don't you want to be better?" 

"Do we have to talk about this right now?" Ép groaned, breaking the peaceful air. "I have to talk about this bullshit with everyone now, and you of all people should know that I don't fucking want to. I just want to go home, get wasted and never hear about it again, okay? Leave me alone." As much as she contorted her face, the tears welling up behind her eyes could not be hidden. 

Mont didn't know what the fuck to do. In a moment of desperation, he saw no other option but to grab her by the shoulders and look at her face to face. Of course, this was difficult considering his new found feelings for her. "There's no need to freak out, Ép. I'm sure your parents didn't even pick up—"

"Enough about that. It's not that, okay? I'm just—" She didn't finish her sentence. And instead of pulling away like Mont thought she would, she rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed. He pulled her in closer, placing one hand on her head protectively and another clutching her shaking body. He didn't speak. It wouldn't have been right. He knew that all she needed was a moment of comfort, of love. No questions asked. 

This went on for a solid ten minutes before Éponine's tears were dry. As she slowly lifted her head, Mont reached out to wipe her face. With a look of disgust, she swatted his hand and turned her head quickly. And the moment was over. 

Mont's lips twisted in anguish as the realization came that moments like that would probably only come in small doses. He would hold her in his arms ten minutes and when her tears were dry and demons fought, she would tire of him and move on to fawning over Marius Pontmercy. He meant nothing to her. Despite this, he knew that he would still pathetically show up whenever she drunk texted him for help. He would always try to wipe her tears and kiss her wounds but she wouldn't think anything of it. But he'd never stop showing up by her side. And he hated that. 

"Never talk about that again." Éponine muttered bitterly, crossing her arms tightly and still avoiding his gaze. 

"It never happened." He nodded, drawing back his hand shamefully. 

"Good. So we're on break next week, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. Even more booze. Have you been in my apartment?" 

"Yes. I did what you told me to do. There's plenty to last you the week." Mont wasn't proud of it. Something inside of him knew that he wasn't helping at all by supplying her with alcohol. 

"How'd you do it?" Her eyes were wide, and brighter than he'd seen them since she was admitted. Sad.

"I know a lot of sketchy ass people. Don't question it." With that, he rose from the bed promptly and hurried out of the room without as much as a goodbye. He couldn't muster it. He couldn't look at her for any longer without leaning forward into a kiss. 

"Fuck."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine & Mont get to know each other better...

Pulling his glance away from the road temporarily, Montparnasse looked over Éponine's shoulder. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" 

"I'm deleting the stupid counselor's number from my phone. I don't want it." She mumbled, crossing her arms indignantly as she finished.

"Oh. Uh, cool." For someone who was easily able to fool a police officer or principal, Mont was horrible at hiding the way he felt. And here, he obviously thought Éponine was making a poor decision. But after everything she had opened up to him about, he found himself trying harder to avoid scolding her.

"Stop it." She rolled her head back in frustration. "Please stop treating me like I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. You're supposed to my friend, not my fucking mom, okay?" This certainly was not the first time she addressed this, but this time was different. Instead of angry and bitter, she sounded miserable and desperate. All she needed was a friend and at the moment, Mont didn't feel like one. 

"Obviously I'm your friend." He looked intently at the road and clutched the wheel tightly, trying to hide the blush spreading across his cheeks. Damn it. "That's why I'm a little concerned. But whatever. It's over, right?" 

"Yes, it's over. So we can move on, yeah?" While her tone reverted back to its usual bitter quality, her eyes were silently pleading. 

"Yeah." Mont nodded firmly, still avoiding eye contact, even though the road was empty and completely straight. 

After a drawn out awkward silence, Mont turned to Éponine, face to face, and laughed. "You know, hospital security is scary low." 

She raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly— just enough to put a grin on his face. 

In the moment, the only viable option seemed to be pulling over on the side of the road without a word of explanation. 

"What the hell are you doing?" A smile was evident in her voice. 

With a mischievous grin, he pulled a little stuffed bear out of his back pocket. The banner it held read "get better soon." 

She rolled her eyes, but reached out to take it. "This would've been—what? Three dollars? You bad, bad boy." She said dryly. 

"Another thing about hospitals is that the gift shop prices are fucking insane." 

"Five dollars?" 

"Try twelve!" He reached out and shoved the bear playfully, still grinning. 

"Okay, I can now see it was worth the snatch. Nice work." The bear remained clutched in her hand as she sat back, resting her head. 

"Why are we still pulled over?" Éponine squinted, opening her eyes to reveal that the car was still parked.

No response. 

"Mont?" She leaned forward, trying to make eye contact as he stared into the distance. 

Without speaking, Mont squeezed his eyes shut, leaned forward and took her angular face in his hands. Instead of protesting or screaming obscenities at him, Éponine did absolutely nothing at all. In a split seconds, his lips were on hers and her eyes were shut as well. 

He kissed her once and slowly opened his eyes, nervously awaiting her reaction. His face was inches from hers as their eyes met. Neither Montparnasse nor Éponine felt physically able to pull their eyes away. 

Mont suddenly leaned forward again, beginning to intertwine his hand in Éponine's hair when she backed away, shaking her head. 

Her lips were pursed as she turned away, crossing her scarred arms tightly. "I thought I just made it clear that we're friends." She mumbled coldly. 

"W—we are." Mont stuttered, eyes wide and cheeks bright cherry red. 

"Then what the fuck was that?" She hissed, turning her head to avoid his eyes. Breathing heavily, she hoped to slow down her thumping heart. There was no way she could feel this way about Montparnasse. Not him. Not the kid who worked for her father. She was never, ever going to date anyone associated with the worst part of her life. Again, she shook her head fiercely. 

"I'm sorry. Shit. That was a mistake. I just— after what happened..." 

"Yeah, okay. Sorry. Next time I try to kill myself, I'll keep in mind to stay the fuck away from you if I don't your lips all over mine, creep." With that she threw the car door open and stomped out. 

"You can't walk home!" Right as he said this, he sighed in defeat as he realized he was parked only minutes from the apartment complex where she lived. Fuck.

As she disappeared into the distance, Mont slammed his head on the wheel. He'd really fucked things up this time. It was idiotic of him to act on his feelings as he was driving her home from the fucking hospital. He felt like the most gigantic idiot on earth. His face grew brighter and brighter as he continued to beat himself up over the incident. Now she would never consider dating, or even being his best friend again. Wow. He had managed to get rid of the one person who he loved. The one person who seemed to give a single shit about him. Great. Just great. After a ten minute period consisting solely of Mont banging his head against the window and cursing, he drove home, determined not to leave for the rest of his stupid school vacation. If he didn't have Éponine, what would he even do? Sleep? Eat junk and watch Real Housewives? While it was foolish to ruin the figure he took so much pride in, based on his current circumstances, Mont had no choice but to pull out the shame food. 

\------

The moment Éponine threw the door open, Azelma squealed with delight. Momentarily forgetting who she was dealing with, she flung herself into Éponine's arms with teary eyes. 

"Okay, calm down." Éponine waved her off, apparently already in a 'mood'. 

"I'm sorry. I was just excited to see you. We were all—"

"Worried. Yeah, I know. Forget it, okay?" Éponine snapped, turning from her little sister.

Azelma paused for a moment. Of course she had a million questions on the tip of her tongue. Why? What happened? Will it happen again? Are you okay? But she knew asking her sister these questions would only result in being snapped at again.

Letting out an involuntary, Azelma retreated to their bedroom, shoulders sinking as she walked. Éponine let out a long sigh as she watched.

And she couldn't wait any longer. Éponine headed towards the liquor cabinet hungrily to check if Mont had made good on his promise. Before she could do anything, a gentle knock at the door interrupted her.

Figuring it might be a cop for all she knew, Ép headed for the door instead of shouting at it.

Much to her surprise and chagrin, on the other side of the door stood Cosette with a plate of cookies. On her face was a soft, kind smile which pissed Éponine off. Why couldn't she smile like that? Instead, when Ép smiled it only revealed her crooked teeth and a few premature wrinkles. 

"Éponine! You're home," Cosette chirped, placing the plate of cookies into Éponine's hands, "How are you feeling?"

Never being one to resist free food, Éponine grabbed the plate with a pathetic attempt at a smile. "Um, thanks. I'm fine. How do you know where I live?"

"Because I live here too. My mother and I just moved a couple of doors down. The former tenant just passed away." Cosette answered with another kind smile.

Éponine's eyes widened, leaving her speechless for a moment. How in the world had Little Miss Perfect and her mother been reduced to living in this shitty building? While she was shocked at first, her shock turned into pleasure. Was Cosette sinking? Would she even be perfect for much longer? "Cool. It's beautiful, huh?" 

"Yeah, totally!" Cosette nodded along, obviously not understanding the joke. "I really love the...view of the parking lot. It's nice, really."

"Cosette," Éponine chuckled, "I was kidding. It's an absolute shit hole, okay? Don't get too excited."

"I wasn't sure if you were joking and I didn't want to be a complete jerk, so..." Cosette giggled, turning out her feet like a ballerina as she stood. 

Éponine nodded, biting her lip. "Wanna come inside?" She asked in an impulsive outburst. But really, who was going to keep her entertained now that she had officially decided to ignore Mont?

"I'd love to! Thank you." 

While Cosette sat down on the couch carefully, Éponine took a moment to consider whether or not she should give herself a little liquid courage before entering the conversation she had stupidly created for herself. But she decided that she could entertain herself by figuring this Cosette chick out, and she couldn't scare her off so early in the game. So no booze.

"Look, no offense, but I thought you were, like, fucking loaded or something." Éponine started, sitting across from Cosette.

Cosette smiled nervously, holding onto her legs as she spoke. "Well, my father is." Éponine was practically a stranger, and probably not a great keeper of secrets— Cosette didn't choose to elaborate.

"If your father is fucking loaded, then what the hell are you doing here?" Éponine leaned forward, intrigued.

Cosette remained silent for a moment.

"What? He cut you off or something?"

Cosette inhaled sharply, giving an ambiguous tilt of the head.

"He left." Éponine stated.

Cosette sighed and nodded. "Yeah, he did. But he is mean anyways. He was always putting my mother and I down, and frankly, I'm glad he's gone."

Éponine nodded thoughtfully, sitting back in her chair.

"I'm sorry. I'm over sharing. I barely know you." Cosette laughed, hanging her head.

"No, you're on. Sucks about your dad, though."

"I guess so."

"My father isn't a real winner, either. In fact, I don't know where the fuck he is right now. And I don't care."

"Éponine, I'm so sorry. That's just awful. He is horrible. May I ask about your mother?"

"Same as him. Whatever. She's wherever he is, I guess." She laughed bitterly. Damn it. She wasn't supposed to open up to Cosette, it was supposed to be the other way around. Something about Cosette was so comforting and understanding, though, that Éponine would end up telling Cosette all of her many troubles if she wasn't extremely careful.

"Neither of your parents are around? I'm not going to tell anyone if you don't want me to, but have you ever thought about contacting the police?" Cosette leaned forward, reaching for Éponine's. To Éponine's disgust, she couldn't even refuse. Her touch was so reassuring.

"No, don't. They'd kill me if—", Éponine went red as she realized how close she had come to giving away her parents' profession, "It's fine. They'll be home soon enough, I bet. They left some of their shit here. Azelma and I are fine on our own anyways. We're used to it."

"Okay. If you're sure. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But if you ever need to talk, call me or knock on the door anytime. I'll write down my number. Okay?"

"Uh, thanks." Éponine was embarrassed about being so weak, but she let Cosette write down her number anyways.

"I have a voice lesson, but I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Cosette."

The second the door was closed, Éponine went straight for the liquor cabinet and despite her current hatred for him, was immediately grateful to Montparnasse.

\------

Meanwhile, Mont was not in a good place. Éponine's number was dialed on his phone, but his finger hovered over the 'call' button for an answer straight before he finally threw the phone across the couch. With a pathetic whimper, he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. He hated himself for crying like a fucking wuss, but the tears flowed anyways. Though he swatted at his burning tears as soon as they fell, they continued. His chest hurt, it was heavy. And no, he wasn't just being over dramatic. Something inside of him knew that Éponine wouldn't be talking to him for a while and it was hell. While she was in the hospital, he had enjoyed many a day dream about the cute things they would do as a couple and the romantic notes he would send her. The day dreams were endless. They played in his head while he fell asleep at night, while he drove to school, while he sat through a lecture in English. The outlandish dreams kept him going while Éponine was gone. And now he might as well have flushed them down the toilet with some poor timing and idiotic actions. Well fuck.

Finding no alternatives, Mont continued to stew in self-hatred for longer than he might have liked to admit. At least two or three hours. He'd cried his body weight in tears and ate it in Oreos. He wasn't sure which he hated himself more for.

Sometime during his third hour of grieving lost love, Mont's phone rang. "Who the fuck is calling me?" He muttered to himself, banging his head against the arm of the couch. 

He jumped up like he had a fire under his ass when he saw who was calling. Éponine. 

He answered fourth ring. It felt cool, not too desperate. Not like he'd been crying about her for the past three hours or anything like that.

"Hey, Ép. What's going on?" He cleared his throat, trying to shake rid the teary thickness of his voice.

After hearing only a laugh, Mont could immediately tell that Éponine was wasted. More than usual, even.

"Um, Éponine?" He sighed, waiting to be drunkenly yelled at.

"Heyyyy," She crooned, followed by a drunken laugh. "Come over." After her invitation, the call ended and Mont groaned.

But like always, he was unable to deny her anything. Putting his boots on quickly, he was out the door within seconds.

He didn't even bother to knock when he reached her apartment.

She was sprawled across the couch, a bottle of vodka tightly clutched to her side and a shot glass tipped over on the ground.

His eyebrows furrowed, and instead of scolding her, he took responsibility. He was the one who set her off, who caused her enough distress to want to drown in vodka.

"Ép?" Mont sighed, kneeling by her side.

"Mont?" She murmured, barely conscious, but wearing a sloppy smile.

Normally, this kind of behavior would piss him off a bit, but he was instead filled with relief. She was speaking to him. Even after drinking half a bottle of vodka, it still counted for something. 

"Yeah. Are you okay?" He pushed a strand of ratty hair behind her ear with a gentle smile. God, he hated himself for being so desperate, ready to jump at any excuse to spend time with her— even if he ended up babysitting. Of course. He'd once again dropped everything— which was crying over Éponine this time— to come to her side. Only hours after her return home, it became clear to him that the cycle of her doing stupid things and him coming to her rescue was never, ever going to end. She would be cold to him, she would shut him out and never come close to saying a nice word to him, but when she needed him, he would be there. Always. 

"Mm." She nodded quickly, unsteadily sitting up. However, she sat up too quickly and immediately fell into him. On instinct, he wrapped his arms protectively around her little body. 

Her laughter faded away. For a moment, she was silent. In this peaceful moment, Mont sighed and continued to cradle her, just then noticing a figure peering out from the bedroom. Azelma. As Azelma watched her sister collapse into his arms, she couldn't help but let out a cry. Terrified as Mont's intense gaze reached her, she clutched a hand over her mouth and shut her teary eyes, closing the bedroom door and retreating back inside. 

"Éponine?"

She leaned back abruptly so that they were face to face. 

He wasn't sure whether to expect a slap to the face or a sobbing mess in his arms. Her face was unreadable. While her eyes were uncharacteristically wide, her lips remained still and her expression neutral. She reeked of liquor— clearly the bottle of vodka wasn't the only one she'd drank from that evening. He ignored the stench and continued to meet her gaze, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

With closed eyes, she leaned forward, lips puckered. She was going to kiss him. She must've been really drunk, he decided. Well, obviously. 

Milliseconds before her lips reached his, Montparnasse pulled away. Continuing to hold her in his arms, he swiveled his head around so that they were no longer face to face. 

"The fuck?" Éponine mumbled, hanging her head with her bony arms remaining around his neck. 

Suddenly, he was reminded of just a week or so back, when he left her in that school hallway after finding her in the closet with Grantaire. He had ditched her. That incident had conveniently left his memory for days, but it came crashing back suddenly, carrying with it a feeling foreign to Mont— guilt. He hadn't been there for her then and now she was acting up. Hell, just days before she had drank herself into insanity by his hand— and now he wouldn't give her a simple kiss? He sighed, contemplating.

It was almost as if Éponine was two different people— sober Ép and drunk Ép. When sober, she was bitter, alert, cold and dismissive. She was more interested in some wussy rich boy than she was in Mont. He loved her. He loved this girl But after a few too many drinks (aka nearly every single night), she needed Mont. It seemed that she only loved him when she needed him to hold her hair or make sure she didn't get in bed with a stranger. He loved her. He loved this girl, too. Just earlier, sober Ép had stormed out of the car when Mont kissed her and now she was begging him for a smooch.

Finally, he decided it couldn't hurt to give the poor girl what she wanted. After all she had put up with in the past few days, why not give her one decent night she wouldn't remember the next day? Despite the hangover, maybe she would feel better in the morning if he gave her a bearable night without tears. 

Before he could even agree to kiss her, she leaned forward and firmly placed her lips on his. Without any further hesitation, Mont threw his dignity out the window and leaned into the kiss which he had been waiting for— but not like this. Maybe it was the kiss or maybe it was the alcohol on her breath, but he felt buzzed immediately.

Unable to resist her rough, sour kisses, he didn't back away for a long time— maybe too long. Way too long. The night was too long, really. Honestly, he should have left right after the fatal kiss was over. Instead, he did something he had never done before. He let her pour him a drink. Okay, a few drinks. Several. Too many. And sadly, Éponine could hold her liquor ten times better than him. He was gone. Wasted. Trashed. Usually, he'd stay sober in order to take care of her, but he couldn't handle the shame he felt kissing a drunk girl while sober. But he couldn't stop kissing her. There was absolutely no way he could pull himself away from what felt like the most important moment of his life. It didn't matter that she was drunk. Now so was he. 

Despite his greatest efforts, Montparnasse would never forget the night when Éponine was admitted to the hospital. Éponine would never forget the night her father hit her for the first time, even though it was nine years in the past. But this was one night that neither of them would ever remember.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the events occurring in the previous night

Éponine woke up on the living room floor the next morning, head pounding and half naked. She sat up quickly— too quickly. Her head began to throb. The dusty, dank apartment reeked of liquor. The pieces fell together easily. It was just another night for her. She'd gotten wasted and passed out. But her lack of clothing remained a mystery and hinted that perhaps it was not just another night. With squinted eyes, Éponine stood up slowly to investigate. Damn. She was still unsteady on her feet. Scantily clad and shaking from the cold, she wrapped a threadbare blanket around her quivering body. Another odd thing— where the fuck were her clothes? First stop was her bedroom— as she peered inside, it became apparent that this room had not been a part of the previous night's events. Azelma was gone, at the library, maybe. Éponine couldn't have cared less. Nothing was amiss in the bedroom. The same old clothes were strewn around the floor haphazardly and her bed was still neat and made, courtesy of Azelma. Éponine stopped on her way out the door when she heard footsteps in the kitchen. And they certainly weren't Azelma's. Her sister's footsteps were soft, usually unnoticed. 

Covering herself sufficiently with the blanket, Éponine ventured into the kitchen with careful steps. She paused. In front of the refrigerator stood her father, clad only in boxer shorts. He looked so nonchalant, not like a man who had abandoned his daughters in a shit apartment for the better part of the week. Éponine talked herself out of confronting his negligence. Her head was killing her too much to subject herself to a convoluted story from her father. Did it even matter? Why should she care where he was? Against reason, she decided to ask. 

"Hi." She scoffed, crossing her scarred arms tightly. 

"Who's that?" Thénardier didn't bother turning around to address his daughter. 

"Éponine. Your daughter." Her lips were pursed tightly. 

"What's it you want? Money, I take it?" He laughed, finally swinging around to face his fuming daughter.

"Like you have any to give." Éponine retorted quickly. She gave him the most terrifying glare she could muster. It wasn't much. She was exhausted, hungover and disheveled. 

"What then? You want my boys to come over, you little slut?" Thénardier sidled up beside her, reeking of body odor and cheap beer. 

"No." She squeezed her eyes shut, seriously regretting her decision to speak with her father. It always ended up like this— he was far too close to her and frighteningly unpredictable. This was so not worth confronting him in the first place. Still, she had to face the hole she had dug herself into. Attempting to squirm her way out at this point would be a futile effort.

"Ah, but they're coming. Lucky day, eh?" He snickered, throwing a lanky arm around his miserable daughter.

"I'll make myself scarce." She said through her teeth, putting less than a full effort into wiggling out of his grip. It was useless, as expected. His grip on her only tightened. She really, really hated herself for getting into this conversation.

"Aw, you don't want to do that. I don't think that'd end well for you, m'dear. My boys need a little something to keep 'em entertained, ey? Stay where you are, Azalea."

Instead of indignantly reminding him of her real name and the fact that he did not have a daughter named Azalea, Éponine stormed into her bedroom and covered her head with the thin blankets on her bed. It was a good fucking thing Azelma was off wherever, because Éponine would have been beyond humiliated if her little sister saw her cry like a goddamn baby. Her cries were muffled by a mysteriously stained pillow, but their intensity most definitely would have been detected by Azelma. She wished she had died that night. If she had died, she would not be sobbing in her room, awaiting the arrival of the men she despised most, dreading what they would put her through. All she could do was sob and daydream about the beautiful freedom of death and just how close she came.

\------

Fantine was almost finished with the last of their unpacking when Cosette arrived home following her breakfast date with Marius. Grinning at her daughter, who was practically glowing herself, Fantine dropped the box in her hand and ran to Cosette's side. After finally approving Marius for Cosette, she found it inside herself to feel beyond thrilled for her happy daughter. Marius was a nice boy who would never hurt her baby girl. Even from the start, it was clear that he didn't pull the same shit Félix always did: flirting with other women, treating Fantine like an object, etc. Fantine found herself filled with pride when she finally recognized the man Félix was. She was over it, not staring at the window, waiting for him as the hours passed by irregularly. He was a thing of the past, a vague memory which wouldn't be dug up often if she could help it. 

Taking Cosette's hands into hers, Fantine beamed. "How did it go? Did he kiss you?" 

Cosette grinned, pausing for a moment. Marius and her had kissed many times before— and not just little pecks, at that. However, her mother's approval of Marius didn't completely assure Cosette that Fantine would approve of how quickly the relationship was progressing. Her smile faltered for a quick second. 

"So? Did he or didn't he?" Fantine's smile remained, she shook Cosette's hands in hers. 

"No, not yet. But we're taking things slow, mom, I told you that." 

"Right, right, right. Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself! I'm not sure I would even wanting you kissing yet at this point. Cosette, you're a smarter woman than I."

After a minute or two of gushing with her mother, Cosette took off to her new bedroom— tiny as a closet and stinking of the previous owner's cigarettes. 

Cosette had never lied to her mother before. And she had no reason to. Her mother had always trusted her and Cosette had always been open and honest in return. But somehow, telling the details of her relationship to her mother felt wrong, like it would get her in trouble, or it would earn her a lecture, or worse yet, she wouldn't be allowed to see Marius anymore. Still, she felt comforted that the lie was small. Her and Marius were doing nothing but kissing and, quite honestly, Marius was a horrible kisser anyways. 

\-------------

Waking up in his car, parked in front of Éponine's building was not how Montparnasse expected to start his day. And fuck— the debilitating nausea was not on his to-do list either. Considering his inability to remember what happened the night before, he put two and together and realized he had obviously been drinking that night. Shit. He wasn't a drinker, and couldn't remember why he would suddenly get shit faced to the point where his memory was nonexistent. And the fact that he was in front of Éponine's building— he must have been with her. Oh shit. If he had been drinking, she most definitely had been doing the same, and Mont really wished she would stop. Seeing somebody he cared about so much hurting herself so intensely- it stung. Damn it. Before attempting to further piece together the fuzzy details, he decided to call Ép— what's the harm in that? 

After five rings, it became apparent that she wasn't picking up—most likely nursing a hangover of her own. With a resigned sigh and a wince, he reclined back into his seat for only a second before deciding to go inside and find her himself. He wanted to sort this out and see if she could piece the night together better than he— after all, he didn't like to feel out of control as he did in this very moment. 

To his displeasure, he was greeted at the door by Éponine's father, who was still pissed at him for skipping out on a few recent jobs. 

"Ey, if it isn't the—" Thénardier leaned against the doorway with a growl before Mont stepped past him. 

"I'm just looking for Ép. Spare me from your bullshit, thanks." 

Thénardier was too drunk to make a strong or violent protest, instead remaining at his spot by the door. "Here I was, thinking my boys were here, and it was just a bag of fucking scum!" He called after Mont, waving his hands around. Mont ignored his idiocy and continued to head for Éponine's room, attempting to ignore he the pounding in his head. He carefully took note of his surrounding, having a vague feeling that many of them were featured in last night's mystery occurrences.

Montparnasse knocked on Éponine's door with purpose, ignoring Thénardier's crude comments behind him.

"Go the fuck away!" Came Éponine's unpleasant response from the other side of the door.

"It's, uh, it's me. It's Mont. Can I come in? Please?" He continued to knock until she reluctantly opened the door.

"What do you want?" She groaned, rubbing her head. Clearly, she wasn't feeling too hot either.

"Ép, what the hell happened last night?" He slid into her room, closing the door behind him and leaving her cornered.

"How the fuck should I know? You're the sober one, aren't you?" She replied, head in hands.

"Well, uh, not last night, I wasn't." Mont chuckled a little, though the vibration bothered his headache. Damn.

Éponine lifted her head a tiny bit, the slightest beginnings of a smirk forming on her chapped lips. "No shit! You got wasted last night, too?" When she wasn't in so much pain, she decided, she would definitely make fun of him for disobeying the rules he himself had set for her.

"Yeah. Anyway..."

"I'll be sure to bring that up again later." She mumbled, lips falling back into a grimace.

"I came here because I don't like the fact that my memory is shot. Any chance you could help me put the pieces together? I just— don't know if I did something really stupid. You know? Like took off my clothes and ran down the street, or something. I have no fucking idea." He carefully took a seat beside her on her bed, running a hand through his disheveled locks. After this was all sorted out, he could not wait to go home and fix that mess.

"I don't remember shit either. But, hm. I'm pretty damn sure you didn't do that, so who the hell cares? What's the worst you could have done, huh?" She shrugged sluggishly.

"You know, you're right. What's the use in worrying about—"

"Where's the little slut?" A drunken call rang through the door, omitting a stone cold glare from Éponine. 

Mont looked at her worriedly, reaching his arm out to her for support if she may need it.

"Ignore them. It's fine. I bet they're too wasted to open the fucking door." She scowled, standing up from the bed abruptly. As she stepped closer to the door, it became apparent that an encounter with these idiots was unavoidable. She'd have to tell them to piss off, at the very least. Their obscene yelling was hurting her head and their disgusting scent wafting through the door was setting off her nausea. 

With an audible groan, she yanked the door open and stuck her head out. "Kindly fuck off, thanks." 

"Not without a little kiss, at the very least." Demanded Babet, puckering his lips and leaning unsteadily towards Éponine.

"No, thank you." Éponine replied curtly, wanting desperately to close the door on them but knowing that it would only cause her more trouble. 

"What, she don't put out?" Claquesous's gravelly voice called from behind him. 

"Oh, she do," Babet replied with a sickening wink, "Gave me a little somethin' a while back, she did. Looks like she ain't had much of a break either." He gestured to something Éponine had not noticed lying on the floor— an empty condom wrapper. 

Peeking his head out the door, Mont's mouth fell right open. He would know that crinkled wrapper anywhere— he had been saving it in his wallet since seventh grade. After quickly rifling for his wallet in his pocket, fishing it out and looking through its contents, its shocking disappearance omitted a gasp from him. So that's what happened last night. Fuck. 

Seconds after Mont put the pieces together, the drop of Éponine's jaw indicated she had figured it out, as well. Again, fuck. 

Her father and his friends guffawed loudly outside the door which Éponine slammed immediately after the discovery. For a moment, she looked at Montparnasse in stunned silence, her lips still parted ever so slightly.

"So we—" Mont twiddled his thumbs awkwardly, avoiding eye contact in fear of being beaten to death by the owner of the glaring eyes he could feel glued on him. 

"—Just don't." She cut him off briskly, glaring eyes widening. "Don't say it. Just don't."

"I mean, Ép, we can't just forget about it." Mont tried. A second later, he shook his head, realizing how obviously he was revealing his crush on her. Though he couldn't remember the deed occurring, he sure as hell wouldn't forget it and wouldn't let her. It must have meant something, right? Even drunk, the sex couldn't have been meaningless, could it? God, how he hoped this would introduce a new element into their relationship— romance. He waited for her response, which took a few moments of sighing and groaning for her to get out.

"Yes, I think we can. Can and will, alright?" She was weirded out by the direction their relationship had been taking lately— she remembered him trying to kiss her the same day, and now this. The thought that he liked her didn't come close to occurring to her— nobody in their right mind would develop a crush on her, she reasoned. Maybe it was the meds they had put her on. She had thrown them away as soon as she left, but maybe that last dosage still lingered. She grasped for a reason, an explanation and was left only with confusion and frustration. Honestly, try as she might, she wouldn't be able to simply forget that she screwed Mont— Mont of all people, the last person she ever thought of that way. It was a royal fuck up, she decided.

"Éponine, be serious here. If we talk this out, maybe it won't be so weird, yeah?" He began walking towards her, laying a firm hand on her shoulder. 

Squirming away, she shook her head quickly. "Don't touch me, okay? Don't. I don't want to talk about this shit, okay? I really didn't need this, you know. Not at all. I was already dealing with the fucked up hospital deal. I still felt like shit for having sex with my dad's perverted friend, and now I have to add this to my list of fuck ups." 

"How is this my fault any more than it is yours?" Mont's eyebrows furrowed. He was hurt by her words, and was suddenly defensive. "You had sex with me, I had sex with you. We're both at fault here, so why don't you quit acting like I'm the fucking bad guy?" 

"You know why," She pointed an accusatory finger at him, "You're supposed to be the responsible one. You pick up the messes and we were both better off for it. Why did you have to get wasted last night, asshole?" 

"Maybe I'm tired of cleaning up after you," His tone was low, and only slightly uneven. It indicated the calm before the storm. Suddenly, his voice was raised. "Why the fuck do I have to clean up your shit? Ever noticed the fucked up cycle we run on, Éponine? I'm serious. Have you? Have you ever stopped thinking about yourself for a minute and noticed it? I think I know the answer." 

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. What's your fucking deal?" 

His eyes were wild, bursting with bottled up anger. "Of course! Of course you didn't fucking know, you self-centered—"

"Want to fucking enlighten me, maybe?" 

"You dismiss me and treat me like shit during the day. You ignore me, insult me and act like I'm fucking human trash when we're together, while I work my fucking ass off trying to make things better for you. I'm trying to help you and you're throwing me out like fucking garbage. But when you're sufficiently wasted every night, you give me a call, right? That's when you give enough of a shit to ask for my help, cry for me to come over because nobody else gives a flying fuck about you, right? You cry on my shoulder, you have me run errands, I let you vent, I make sure you get to sleep alright and nurse your hangovers. I drop anything and everything to be at your beck and call just to be treated like shit twelve hours later. And now it's my fault for having an off day, isn't it? After I spend sleepless nights sitting next to your hospital bed to make sure you're breathing okay. After I give you everything I have. Are you enlightened yet?" 

His eyes were red with anger and filling quickly with tears, which he swatted at furiously, avoiding Éponine's unreadable eyes.

Both were silent for a minute, Éponine frowning with her eyes on the ground. 

"If you're gonna be such a pussy about it, why don't you just leave?" Her voice was thick with tears beginning to fall. Why? She didn't know what emotions prompted hem, but they were racing down her cheeks quickly. "If I'm so much trouble for you, why don't you just never speak to me ever again, huh? Why? Yeah, that would make it easier for you, wouldn't it? More convenient? Maybe I just drop off the face of the earth, right? If that's what you want? Why don't you leave, Mont? Why?" 

"Because I'm in love with you, okay?"


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple fights here & there. Oh well.

Éponine's mouth fluttered open and closed, over and over again, until finally it stopped moving and remained half open. Montparnasse was in love with her. Hearing him say it, hearing the unmistakable words come from his own mouth— it couldn't be denied. She couldn't talk herself out of believing it this time. As he stood before her, clearing his throat with discomfort, she had no choice but to accept the fact and run with it. 

"That's— uh. That's not a great idea on your part." Éponine stammered, leaning against the wall awkwardly while pointedly avoiding eye contact. "I mean, after all that shit you just said about me being trouble or whatever. I'm not worth it, am I?" Her tone had an edge of challenge in it.

"Ép, it's not that you're not worth it. It would be 100 percent worth it if you felt the same way. If you gave a shit about me in return, you know? But I mean, you don't. Not at all." 

"Mont, what are you even saying? You fucking idiot, do you really think I don't give a shit about you? You're my best friend. My only friend." 

"You— you act like you wouldn't care if I was gone. You act like I'm disposable, if some other random guy came along and drove you to school, you wouldn't even notice I was gone. That's what I saw when I opened my eyes, Ép." 

What was she supposed to do—act like she was in some cheesy movie and tell him she didn't express her appreciation for his friendship because she was afraid of appearing vulnerable? No way. Instead, she shook her head and continued in an uncharacteristically soft tone. He was really putting himself out there— she couldn't be flat and rude. Even she would feel bad about that.

"Mont, you're one of the the only people I give a shit about. Who'd I ask for in the hospital, huh? Not Azelma, not my parents, right? You, dumbass." 

"I mean, I guess. But when we're just hanging out—"

"Jesus, Mont, that's just who I am. I'm kind of a bitch, if you haven't noticed." She smirked slightly, making her way across the room in his direction. 

"I don't mind." He smiled in return. She was right. Sure, sometimes she acted cold towards him, but warmer than she did towards anybody else. He was a lucky guy, wasn't he? Suddenly, it dawned on him that maybe, just maybe, she liked him, too, and showed it in her own special, Éponine way. Being the smooth guy he was, he combed a hand through his mess of hair yet again, shooting her another smile.

"Can I be honest with you?" Éponine asked, eyes quickly shifting to the ground.

"Go for it."

"You're my friend. But, Mont— a second ago, I was thinking to myself— who do I want to do the gross, cliché, boyfriend-girlfriend thing with?" 

He smiled in anticipation of her answer. He was confident it would work in his favor, as every sign pointed to his dreams of dating her finally coming true. His eyes were practically glowing, hands clasped together in excitement. 

"Who?" He asked with a toothy grin. 

Her slight smile dissolved, turning into a conflicted frown. 

"Marius." 

Montparnasse was frozen. Marius? He had poured his heart out to her, he had expected this conversation to end in a steamy kiss, maybe a sober recreation of the previous night. After all of their history, all of the secrets they'd shared and the time spent together, she would rather date some stupid rich boy she had barely met? 

"Marius, huh? He's uh—rich, yeah?" Mont answered, his tone ice cold and his eyes avoiding her gaze. His sudden change in demeanor set a sour mood on the rest of the conversation.

"He is." She stated firmly with a curt nod of the head. "Once him and that blushing bitch end it—"

"Please, spare me the gory details. You know, Ép, you're out of your fucking mind if you think that prissy rich boy will give a girl like you the time of day." 

"Yeah? You're out of your fucking mind if you think I don't know that. I can't help the way I feel, asshole."

"Neither can I."

"What do you want me to do? Pretend I'm in love with you? Would that be fucking enjoyable for you? Jesus, Mont, what makes you so goddamn entitled that you think I have to like you just because you like me? What the hell is your deal?" She spat, jaw setting angrily.

"Alright, whatever. Just fuck it, right? Whatever. You're not worth my fucking time. You know that? You're not. Everything I said was a fucking mistake, Éponine. I don't love you. I don't want you. I don't need you. All you want to do is screw up your life, and I'm not done watching, okay? Next time you're trashed, don't go calling me to come over. Understood?"

"I hear you loud and clear. Now get the fuck out of my room, asshole. I never want to speak to you again, Montparnasse. You were always a dick anyways."

Kicking the door before storming out, Montparnasse left without another word. The second he got past her apartment, he immediately regretted just about everything. If she really never spoke to him again...he couldn't have that. He had always been one to become caught up in the heat of the moment. He had said all of those things in a burst of anger, and now, minutes later, he was filled with regret. But he couldn't go back now. Éponine wouldn't have him.

The idea of ending his relationship with her sickened him. Sure, he was in love with her, but if he couldn't be her boyfriend, being her friend would be alright. The second best choice. And now he had managed to fuck it up to a point where she was neither a lover nor a friend to him. He was such an idiot.

Montparnasse knew better than anyone how often he and Éponine fought, and how it was usually resolved quickly. But this felt more permanent. Holding back burning tears, he drove back home, blasting embarrassing ballads. 

\-----

For Éponine, the rest of February vacation consisted of blurry days of booze and cigarettes, while Mont had his fair share of Oreos and Real Housewives marathons. Marius and Cosette spent quite a bit of time together, with Courf in tow, of course.

On Monday morning after break, first period math with Fauchelevent was practically overflowing with yawns and eye rolls.

Assigned seats still in place, Éponine figured this was a good time to get in with Marius, who, starting that Tuesday was beginning his tutoring sessions with Cosette and Éponine.

Marius, having heard Montparnasse yell at Cosette over the phone, knew exactly what had gone down with Éponine— the attempted suicide and all. Being a little bit clueless, he had absolutely no idea how to act around her. Upon her arrival, he gave an overly friendly hello and a big wave.

"Oh! Hi, Marius." Éponine gave a slight smile, just now hit with the fact that everybody would be treating her weirdly. Fucking great. Still, she didn't mind attention from Marius, not at all.

"How are you doing today? You look pretty good." Maybe that was the right thing to say, he thought, wearing an awkward smile.

"I'm just fucking dandy. Thanks a lot, Marius. I, uh, try my best." She grinned, turning away and even blushing a little. Despite what she knew about the pity he must've been fueled by, the compliment felt genuine to her.

He nodded, not quite sure how to continue the conversation.

"So, have you seen your girlfriend's new place yet? Pretty sick, hm?" Her tone was laced with sarcasm as she grasped for something to talk about— and in a way, she was trying to show him that Cosette wasn't all he thought she was. She wasn't rich or living in luxury any longer.

"Yes, actually! I helped Cosette and her mother move their boxes inside."

"Did you? How kind of you." She sighed, leaning back in her chair.

"Um, yes. I did. Thanks."

"I live right next door, you know."

"I had no idea! Maybe I'll see you around, then." He smiled, turning away from her as Fauchelevent began the class.

Throughout the entire class, Éponine pointedly avoided Montparnasse's gaze, which remained on her for the entire period.

As they left the classroom, Montparnasse tapped on Éponine's shoulder repeatedly, wanting their fight to be over. He had been so lonely for the past week, he couldn't be without his best friend for much longer or else all the Oreos would begin to show.

"Would you leave me the fuck alone, lover boy? I thought I made it clear that we're not speaking and never will be. Piss off, maybe?"

With a puppy-like frown, Mont took her instruction and went his separate way, defeated eyes on the floor as he made his way to second period. 

"Éponine, hi!" Cosette smiled, sidling up beside Éponine with Marius directly behind her. "Are you excited to be back in school? Sometimes break seems a little too long, don't you think?" 

"Not really." Éponine replied flatly, looking straight ahead with arms crossed tightly. 

"Oh! So I take it you had a nice break, then? What were you up to?" 

"Um, nothing. And, uh, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. Just because we're neighbors or whatever, you don't have to be my friend." Éponine chuckled a little, though in reality, she would be the tiniest bit disappointed if Cosette never spoke to her again. While her sweetness was sometimes sickening, it could be comforting, too. 

"Oh my god, don't be silly! I want to be your friend, Éponine! You're really funny and honest." 

"Well, thanks." Éponine mumbled. "I guess I'll, uh, add to the compliment chain by saying...you're nice. I guess." 

"Thanks, Éponine." Cosette laughed a little, giving her friend a small, warm smile, which held a striking similarity to her mother's smile. "You must like something about coming back to school, right? Like, you're in the drama club! Isn't it fun?" 

"No comment."

"So, I'll take that as a no. Is your stint in the drama club mandatory?"

"Exactly. Javert busted me for— shit, I don't even remember what. Something." 

"I see. There are worse punishments you could get, right? Like cleaning classrooms, you know?" 

"You're right." Admittedly, Cosette's positivity was a bit infectious. 

"Alright, Éponine, I'll see you around." 

"Right."

Éponine found herself smiling as Cosette walked away. Had she made an actual friend who she could tolerate? Cosette was nice to her, and that was enough to get on Éponine's good side at this point. And she, of course, knew very well that Cosette couldn't be blamed for "stealing" Marius. He was never hers to lose. Despite how much she wanted to be in Cosette's position, she didn't blame Cosette for wanting him, too.

\--------

At rehearsal that day, crew members sat in the audience and watched the actors run through the show, to get to know the scenes as Musichetta put it.

Éponine watched Marius intently as he squawked like a parrot onstage, right beside Montparnasse, who she ignored pointedly. In fact, she couldn't even help the dazed smile on her face as she watched Marius. Something about his being transported her, made her forget all of her troubles for a while.

"Yo, Éponine!" The scent of wine and marijuana wafting in from behind her indicated Grantaire's arrival.

It took her a moment to take her eyes off of Marius before she responded, smile wiped away. "Long time no see."

"Hell yeah! You wanna, uh, head over to the broom closet?"

"Um...

"Whoa, what's with the hesitation, 'Ponine? I don't know about you, but lighting up sounds pretty sick right now."

"Yeah, alright. Wait for the end of this scene or whatever. Um, you know she's more likely to notice us leaving in the middle of a scene."

"Fair enough." 

Grantaire had been wary of her since the screaming incident in his car, but he heard she got attacked or something, so he figured he couldn't rescind his offer to get trashed together "anytime". Éponine, on the other hand, was more than willing to jump at the chance to get trashed. She'd come to school only slightly buzzed, and the supply she'd packed to last her the day barely lasted until lunch.

"So. Pining, are we?" Grantaire observed as they stepped out into the hallway. He could relate to that sentiment quite a bit. Though his smirk was teasing and his tone was biting, he was sympathetic. 

"What are you talking about?" She sighed, too sober to get into this conversation at the moment.

Putting a concentrated effort into not laughing during his imitation of her, he turned to her with another trademark smirk when he finished with his impersonation of her wide, admiring eyes.

"Fuck you," She muttered, "I don't need this. Let's get this moving, yeah?" 

"You know, he's yours if you want him." 

"What?"

"Montparnasse? He likes you back, dumbass. So why don't you quit the pouting and appreciate that good, requited love?"

Éponine couldn't hold back an incredulous laugh. As if she would willingly go anywhere near Mont at this point! Sure, he felt that way about her but she didn't even want him as a friend anymore, let alone as a lover. "You're fucking kidding."

"Dead serious. You're not as sneaky as you might think, 'Ponine." He smiled slightly, happy to hear that relentless cursing which indicated that she was, indeed, herself. Accidents change people sometimes, and he was worried she wouldn't be the reckless, bitchy, slightly psychotic girl he'd hung out with.

"Montparnasse and I aren't even friends anymore. He's an asshole, you know. I wouldn't waste my time on that shit." Éponine scoffed, deciding to leave out the fact that Mont had it bad for her.

"Well, I take it you're not in love with Pontmercy, eh?" He was completely kidding, of course. Marius was the last person he would think to be Éponine's "type".

"No! I'm not in love with anyone, okay? Get the fucking booze out and get out of my face with all this." She rolled her eyes dismissively, though his joke made her a bit nervous. But that's all it was: a joke.

\-------

When the rehearsal let out two hours later, Éponine was standing outside the auditorium, just in case Principal Javert did one of his routine four o'clock walks around the school. She would be in deep shit if she couldn't appear to be in rehearsal. She was just starting to walk away when Cosette tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey, Éponine. Look, I noticed you and your friend seemed a little tense in math today, like maybe you're having a fight or something? So, my mom said we could give you a ride home, if you want? We can give you a ride whenever, since we live in the same place and all."

Éponine wasn't drunk enough to slur her words or stumble, but when she turned around, the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke hit Cosette right in the face. She even winced for a second involuntarily.

Seriously, what other choice did she have? "I'd, uh, appreciate that. Thanks."

"Okay." Cosette nodded, gesturing for Éponine to follow her. Of course she knew what Éponine got up to during rehearsal, and she didn't want to seem like a snitch, but she made a mental note to talk to Éponine about her issues. She wanted to help her friend. Figuring she should save the heavy stuff until Éponine was more comfortable with her, she said nothing. 

\----- 

When Éponine pushed her bedroom door open, she gave an exasperated sigh as she saw her sister staring up at her.

"Great. You're here." 

"We haven't talked in a few days." Azelma stood up from her bed, eyes wide.

"That's fine with me."

"I know this probably isn't any of my business, but—"

"Then why don't you stay the fuck out of it?" 

"Because we're sisters, Ép. I'm supposed to care about you, you know?" 

Éponine threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine. What is it?" 

"Were you drunk the night you got home from the hospital? You're really not supposed to be doing that." 

"None of your damn business." Éponine rolled her eyes dismissively, turning her head away from her sister.

"I just want you to be okay. You getting hurt was the worst thing that ever happened to me." Tears were welling up Azelma's big, blue eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt again." 

Éponine frowned for a second before shaking her head. Something Mont had said to her weeks ago popped into her head. "You know, Azelma, I think you'd be better off if you quit worrying about me and moved on. You don't love me because of me, you love me because I'm your sister and you feel like you have to. But you don't. Mom and Dad are supposed to love us because we're their kids, but do they? No, they fucking don't. Get on with it and leave me alone." 

"Éponine, please," Azelma pleaded, "I really love you because you're you."

"All I've done to you is make it clear I don't want any part of you. I don't know what the fuck you see in me. Especially since I'm the one who gave you that." She pointed sharply at the scar on Azelma's arm where Éponine had put out her cigarette a few months back. A twinge of guilt hit her suddenly, but it left just as quickly as it arrived. 

"That doesn't matter. Really. It doesn't even hurt anymore and I made you angry. I deserved it. I was being a pest and I understand I'm being a pest right now, but it's worth it to make sure you're okay." 

"Azelma..." Éponine eyebrows furrowed in an emotion she couldn't quite identify. Whatever it was, it made her slightly nauseous and her face burned up. "You can't act like that. 'Specially not around here. You can't just watch people screw you over and let them do it again. You've gotta fight back. You're fucking pathetic. You have no reason to give a shit about me because I don't give half a shit about you." 

Azelma nodded silently, making her way out of the room quietly while trying to hide the sobs about to erupt.

\------

"Finally, all the boxes are unpacked!" Fantine called excitedly from the kitchen.

Cosette ran in to meet her and grinned as she looked astound their organized new apartment. Sure, it wasn't the nicest, but Cosette was proud of herself and her mother for getting by on their own. 

"We've got to celebrate! Are you up for Chinese food?" Fantine grinned, sorting through the pile of take out menus on the counter.

"Well, yeah, but I'm a little behind on homework. I've got a big project due tomorrow, though, so can we tomorrow night, maybe?" 

Fantine pursed her lips. "I have something going on tomorrow night, but— I suppose I could move that to tonight instead?" 

"Well, if it's not too much trouble—"

"It isn't! Not at all. I'm glad that you're so committed to your school work. I admire that. You know that I always wished I'd gotten a proper education like you're getting. It's great that you're not taking it for granted." She pulled her daughter in and kissed her forehead quickly.

'"Thanks, mama," Cosette gave a small smile, "What do you have to do anyways?" 

"Oh, nothing." Fantine blushed a bright pink.

"Mama! Now you have to tell me!" 

"I— have a date." Fantine muttered. She was slightly embarrassed to admit this to Cosette— she was worried Cosette would frown upon her giving up her newfound independence. 

"Mama! That's great!" Cosette grinned. "Maybe if things go well, we could double date sometime!" 

"I'm not so sure about that..." Fantine said as she dashed off to call her date to reschedule.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more Éponine and Mont drama, new romance for Fantine, and a new crisis to create even more chaos

As Montparnasse, to his own disgust, sat by the phone waiting for Éponine's apology or demand for an apology from him, it became apparent she wasn't going to be calling. All he'd done for the past week was linger over the fight, which had so unfortunately occurred minutes after he confessed his love. Fucking fantastic. 

It bothered him that Éponine seemed to be getting along just fine— or as fine as she could ever manage. He had always thought they truly needed each other. He had always thought he was irreplaceable and being hit with reality hurt. A lot. But then again, he figured that this should have been predicted. Of course Éponine wouldn't care if he left and never spoke to her again. Éponine didn't care. Éponine didn't really care much about anything at all. She survived— barely — by crawling from one vice to another. He knew she didn't give a shit about Marius either. Not really, that is. If Mont knew anything, he knew Éponine. The only reason she was crushing on Marius was because she wanted so desperately to care. She was grasping for something to live for, something to throw herself into completely. Something that would give her life meaning and purpose. And so she chose to fall in love— or at least put a concentrated effort into doing so. And of course she would choose a guy like Marius. He was safe. He was comfortable and kind and as disconnected from her home life as possible. 

Mont knew he wasn't that guy. He worked with her father sometimes, he was in the same dirty business as her family. He had a temper and a smart mouth and a wayward lifestyle. So while he understood Éponine's choice to become infatuated with Marius Pontmercy, he wished more than anything that she would open her mind for a second and consider what Montparnasse was able and willing to offer her: love. He loved her more than anything. She meant the world to him. No matter the trouble she caused him, he always ached for her. Of one thing he had been sure for a while— they were soulmates. Meant to be. It was refreshing for him to finally realize that, but now he had to wait for her to make that revelation, too. He was far too enamored of her to give up now, or ever. He would just have to make her see it, no matter how hard a fight it would be. Admittedly, he had already hit a speed bump but he could not surrender.

Despite their fight and the way his anger flared out on him, he wanted to see her again. The only thing standing in his way was the fact that there was no way in hell she wanted to see him.

\-------

Luckily, Fantine's date enthusiastically agreed to meet that night, in an hour. She was glad, of course, but Fantine wasn't quite sure if one hour was enough time for her to look her most beautiful. But she really did want a nice dinner with Cosette, and if that could only happen the next day, her schedule was cleared. The two of them deserved some nice, quality time together, didn't they? She was especially thrilled with Cosette's lack of judgement upon finding out her mother had a date. Cosette was happy for her, even. Of course, Fantine noted, her daughter had no idea who this date was with. 

After finding the perfect outfit, Fantine sat on the floor of her bedroom while Cosette braided her hair. 

Almost right on time, Fantine was ready. Meanwhile, her date was running a few minutes late. Ten minutes flew by as Fantine waited eagerly by the door. Cosette didn't want to discourage her, so she kept the pained looks to a minimum, but the last thing she wanted was for her mother to be stood up. 

\------

After Azelma stormed out, Éponine couldn't help but feel a tiny bit guilty— which was really saying something since guilt was almost foreign to her. Still, she felt that everything she said was true. Either way, she needed a drink. Unfortunately, she knew for a fact that her father was having the boys over that night. 

Deciding to go for it anyways, she motored out of her room and into the kitchen, attempting to avoid eye contact with the men sitting at the table. 

That wasn't going to work.

"Ain't you going to say hello?" Thénardier prodded, standing up quickly so as not to let her leave until he was satisfied. 

"Hi." 

Figuring it was impossible to avoid lingering for a little while, she lifted her eyes from the ground and scanned the table, raising her eyebrows as she laid eyes on Mont.

"Ép." He nodded, trying to act casual. He didn't come off quite as nonchalant as he would've liked— not after the way he'd been staring at her since she walked in. 

"What are you doing here?" She spat, tone lined with disgust. Just as she thought it wasn't possible to lose any more respect for him, here he was, kicking back with her father. 

"Business." Claquesous answered for him. He was always quick to interject when Éponine got curious or stepped out of her place. 

"I thought you weren't doing business with them anymore." Éponine said through her teeth, deathly glare set on Montparnasse.

"None of your business." Claquesous replied quickly.

"Well, I guess you were wrong," Mont pursed his lips, "I didn't work for a little while because I was busy with school, but, ah, my schedule seems to have cleared up a bit." 

"He came through." Thénardier added, still standing in front of her. 

"Good for you." She answered after a moment of awkward silence. 

Fortunately, her father didn't have much use for her at the moment and let her take a few swigs and get the hell out of there.

In her eyes, any chance Montparnasse had at getting back into her good graces was destroyed. Was he trying to hurt her? She never said anything to him in fear of looking like an oversensitive wimp, but he must have realized by that point how far away she wanted to be from her father and everything he did. Sure, she had no problem with stealing something herself, but she was certain he did more than just that. And she didn't feel good about associating with anyone who had anything to do with the driving force of all things bad in her shitty life. Mont must have known that. And now? Now he just wanted to hurt her. With this knowledge, she decided it best to fight back.

\--------

Mont sat in silence for the rest of the "business meeting". Basically, it consisted of the men getting progressively drunker throughout the night and creating a convoluted plan of attack on some rich guy's mansion. He hadn't come with any interest in their plans— he did his own work. He worked better solo, anyways. Stealing was how he lived, and if somebody had to get hurt, they'd get hurt. He didn't flinch at the idea of using the knife he was known to carry around. But the way these men worked— they enjoyed the violence. It was part of the fun for them. He didn't work like that. But he was here to see Éponine and maybe win her over, not to make a salary. Thénardier always tended to rip him off, anyways.

When it seemed a good time for him to go, he stood up quickly, in pursuit of the girl he'd come to this dump for. He looked around the apartment, and even peeked into her bedroom, but she clearly was not there. Defeated, he left the apartment, only to find her slumped against the wall outside the door of her apartment. She was clearly drunk and looked rather hopeless. He sighed loudly, plopping down next to her. 

"Hi, Ép." 

She responded by rolling her head around to face him sloppily, mascara running down her face.

"Since when do you wear makeup?" He furrowed his brows in confusion, although he was able to answer his own question quickly.

"I don't know," She groaned almost incoherently, "What's it to you?"

"It's for Marius, right? You're wearing makeup to impress Marius." His words were delivered coldly, his expression hardening. How was he going to get through to her? She was beyond his help. Never once had she changed any part of herself for anyone, and Marius had the power over her to cause a complete makeover. Montparnasse knew that Marius was going to hurt her. He wouldn't do it on purpose, of course, but he clearly didn't care about her and that would kill her. 

She didn't give him a straight answer, but her breaking down into drunken sobs said enough.

"He's not worth your tears, Éponine. He won't give kids like us a second look, but who needs him?"

"Me! I love him!" She sobbed, clutching the unmarked bottle in her hands.

"No. You don't love him, Éponine. Hell, you don't fucking know him!" Mont snapped, looking at her incredulously. 

"I don't expect you to understand." She pointed a bony finger at his chest. 

It was hard to look at her, she looked so pathetic. He shook his head. "What exactly don't I understand, Éponine?" 

"Love."

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm in love with you before you get it through your mind? I'm in love with you! More so than you are with Marius. You don't even know him. And he doesn't know you. He doesn't give a single shit about you. Not a single one. And you think you love him? And on top of that, you don't think I know what you're feeling? Whatever. I can't fucking talk to you right now. You'd be out of your mind even if you weren't wasted."

With that, Mont stood up and immediately ran into someone. He raised his eyebrows when he looked up, realizing it was his math teacher, Mr. Fauchelevent.

"Uh, hi?"

"Hello, Montparnasse." He nodded, then giving Éponine a tiny wave and a tight smile. 

Mont and Éponine watched as Fauchelevent continued down the hallway, stopping at what Éponine knew to be Cosette's door.

\--------

When Fauchelevent knocked on the door, Fantine was rifling through her jewelry drawer in search of the old pearl earrings that would go perfectly with her sky blue dress. She was so concentrated on this task, she didn't even hear him at the door.

Instead, Cosette opened the door, scrunching up her nose in confusion when she met her teacher's eye. "Mr. Fauchelevent? Um, hi! How are you?"

"Hello, Cosette. I'm well, thank you. And yourself?"

"Um, good. Would you, um, like to come in?" She asked warily, still not quite sure why her teacher stood at the door.

"Thank you. I'm here to pick up your mother."

"My mother? Oh— oh! You're her date?" Cosette asked incredulously.

"Yes." Fauchelevent gave a good natured laugh.

"I'll just be...one moment!" Cosette ran off to fetch her mother with another awkward smile.

"Mama! Mama!" She knocked on her door frantically.

"Cosette! What's up?" Fantine opened the door.

"Mama, your date is here to pick you up. You know, your date. My math teacher."

\-------

"Excuse me." 

"Hi, Cosette." Fauchelevent turned from his desk with a kind smile.

"My mother seemed very happy after your date last night." 

A couple of weeks had passed since Fantine and Fauchelevent's first date, and they had gone on many more following it. 

"I'm glad. I had a good time, as well. I really do hope this isn't uncomfortable for you in any way, Cosette. I wouldn't want to—"

"It won't be uncomfortable unless you make it uncomfortable." Cosette stood straighter than usual, hoping to have an air of confidence about her.

"Excuse me?" Fauchelevent furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn't used to hearing threats or anything of the sort from Cosette.

"If you hurt my mother, I mean. Please don't. My mother is the best woman in the entire world and if you hurt her, I will not let you forget about it. Are we clear?" After her strong statement, Cosette crossed her arms tightly and pursed her lips.

Fauchelevent's eyebrows flew upwards. "Oh! Um— I understand. I promise I will not act like a jerk towards your mother. Don't worry about it. Really. I also think your mother is a great woman, so..." 

"Great!" Her familiar smile came back as she bounced away from his desk, pleased with his response. She really couldn't stand to see her mother hurt again, but she trusted her teacher to be a good and kind man. This all turned out better than she could have imagined.

"Cosette—" He called after her as she neared the door. 

"Yes?"

"I have something else I'd like to ask you. I can write you a pass so that you aren't late for your next class." 

"Okay." 

"The first time I picked your mother up, I noticed that you live next door to Éponine."

"Yeah, I do. Éponine is a friend of mine." Cosette nodded slowly, knowing exactly the direction this conversation was headed in. Éponine hadn't been in school for two weeks. Cosette hadn't seen her around, either. 

"Is she alright? I'm sure you've noticed her attendance dropping lately. I know she's, uh, troubled and I'm wondering if you know what's going on." 

"I don't," Cosette shook her head shamefully, "in fact, I haven't seen or spoken to her in two weeks. Usually, my mother gives her a ride home from play rehearsal but she hasn't been here. And I haven't seen her around the building, either." 

"Oh." Fauchelevent sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't help. I'm pretty worried myself. And so is my mother."

"Right. And one more thing." 

"Yes?" 

"Your mother told me that you're dating Marius Pontmercy. Is this true?" 

Cosette nodded enthusiastically, a grin lighting up her face.

Fauchelevent debated in his mind whether to bring up the words he had overhead exchanged between Éponine and Montparnasse. While he felt like Cosette could use the information in a helpful way, he also felt that it wasn't his right to go around telling secrets that weren't meant for his ears. He decided against saying anything.

"That's—that's good. He seems like a very kind and smart boy." 

\--------

Montparnasse could swear his hair was falling out. With Éponine being gone for two weeks without any clues as to where she ran off to, he was a complete distraught mess. The last time he had seen her, she was drunk and crying about Marius in front of her door, and then Mr. Fauchelevent showed up.

What if something horrible had happened to her? Realizing that he had no concrete proof that she was even alive at the moment, Montparnasse let out a gasp in the middle of math class. Considering the class was in the middle of taking a test, he got a few annoyed looks and a pitiful one from Cosette. 

After class, Cosette gave Marius a quick kiss goodbye and caught up with Mont.

"Any news on where Éponine is?" She asked gently.

"No." His stare was ice cold, though she could see the pain behind it. He looked awful. His eyed were accented with purple bags which only drew more attention to his perpetually tear stained cheeks. Call him melodramatic, but he couldn't live not knowing where Éponine was. He found himself in a constant state of panic, of misery. It had gotten to the point where he would leave his apartment without brushing his hair, which was saying quite a lot for him.

"I really do think she'll be okay." Cosette tried, the sunshine like quality of her voice faltering a little.

Mont just shook his head and turned away from her. The thing that bothered him the most was that he couldn't file a missing person report. He knew very well that both Éponine (if he ever saw her again) and her father would kill him if he tried to involve the police in their lives in any way. But what could he do? The first several days she was gone, he would skip sleeping to drive around and look everywhere for her. She had vanished, it seemed. While he knew for sure that he would never give up, he was growing tired. He was falling apart.

\--------

While laying on his couch like a zombie and trying Éponine's cell phone again and again, Mont had a sudden light bulb go off in his head. When he called her cell, it rang and rang until finally he got her voicemail. But he also knew that if her phone was off, it would not ring. It would go straight to her voicemail. And yet, every time he called, it rang. Unfortunately, this meant that she was ignoring him. But on the bright side, he seemed to have reached an important realization: if she wasn't regularly charging her phone, it would have died long ago. That battery could not have lasted two weeks. He grinned as he put the pieces together— she was charging her phone. She wasn't dead. The only thing left to do was find a way to make her pick up. And another lightbulb went off seconds later. 

When Cosette opened the door and laid eyes on Montparnasse standing before her, her eyes widened immediately. She figured he must have some news! After all, he was in the building. Was Éponine home? Cosette grinned. 

"Hi, Montparnasse!" 

"I need to call Marius and invite him over. Now."

Confused about his intentions, Cosette did as she was told.

"So, he's on his way over. May I ask what this is about?" 

"You'll see, Cosette! You'll see, and it'll be fucking great." 

Montparnasse couldn't help but grin. It seemed to him that everything would fall into place, and that Marius's voice in her messaging machine would prompt Éponine to call back so that he could get some information out of her, finally.

This could bring her home.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine's mysterious disappearance is investigated.

Upon hearing that he was needed at Cosette's, Marius was over as quickly as possible to help out. When he entered, met by a serious looking Cosette and Montparnasse, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What help could he possibly be to them? 

"Um, hello there. You needed my help with something unspecified and, uh, Montparnasse is here. Hi." 

"We need you to call Éponine." Montparnasse stated hopefully, is eyes pleading. He felt as if this was the only way of possibly getting into contact with her. 

Marius nodded slowly, still not quite following. Of course he knew about the ongoing search, but he didn't see why a call from him would of any use. But he, of course, wanted to help. He would do anything for Cosette. And she had sounded rather frantic over the phone.

"I mean, yes. Of course I will, if that's what you think will help. But, um, may I ask why a call from me would be any help?"

Cosette shifted her gaze to Montparnasse for a second, a question hanging in the air— was she to tell Marius what Montparnasse had just told her? The fact that Éponine was head over heels for Marius was news to Cosette. It was shocking. Mont knew that Ép would kill him for telling, but it could bring her back home and he was willing to take a few risks for that purpose. Cosette wasn't angry to find out, of course, as she understood that Éponine couldn't help the way she felt about her boyfriend. It saddened her instead, that her troubled friend's love would remain unrequited. 

But whether to tell Marius— that was up to Montparnasse. With only a couple of seconds of hesitation, Montparnasse gave her a firm nod, a go ahead.

"Marius, Éponine, well, she's into you. Romantically." Cosette stammered, her strained expression indicating that this was a conversation she did not ever intend to have. 

Marius looked rather dumbstruck at the revelation, but he decided it would be best to return to the topic later and, for now, stick to the phone call that he was needed for in the first place.

"I'll call her now." As the phone rang a few times, Marius was afforded about ten fleeting seconds to process this— it didn't make sense. Éponine was his friend. She was obviously aware that he was dating Cosette, so it was lost on him how she could hope to be involved with him? He was forced to drop it when the other end of the phone clicked. With a strained smile, Marius gave Mont and Cosette the thumbs.

"Of course she picks up when she sees his number." Montparnasse mumbled, surprisingly, since this was his idea in the first place. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little bitter. Cosette gave him a sympathetic glance which lasted all of a second before both pairs of eyes fell back to Marius on the phone.

"Uh, hi, Éponine. It's, um, Marius. Hi." He stammered, eyebrows furrowed as he paced around the room sigh the phone pressed up against his reddening ear.

Marius winced as his ear was filled with the discordant sounds of police sirens, yelling and dogs barking from the other line before Éponine spoke.

Montparnasse lurched forward at the sight of what looked like fear on Marius's features, but Cosette placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Finally, Marius heard her speak, throwing the others another thumbs up.

"Marius? What's— uh, what's up?" Her voice, as usual, was grating and guttural but he could tell already that she was intoxicated. It sounded even hoarser than usual. 

"Just, uh, just standing. I mean, just chilling or something like that. How about you?" He scrunched up his nose as he delivered his awkward response, not sure how to talk to her in a proactive yet not overly interrogative way.

"What's it to you, Pontmercy? Ain't you busy necking with Cosette? Or is that what 'just chilling' is?" She sounded colder and more detached than usual.

"No, I'm just chilling alone. Well, not alone. I'm chilling with, uh, my grandfather. In my house. Speaking of my house, where— where are you, Éponine? We miss you at school, you know."

Montparnasse face palmed at the pure awkwardness. He could practically imagine Éponine rolling her eyes on the other end.

"I'm nowhere. And I'm not coming back. What the fuck do I have to come back for? My family? My schoolwork? My friends? My boyfriend? See, I've got shit back home. You can let up." She finished with a short, bitter laugh, which only made it more heartbreaking to listen to.

"Éponine—"

"Look, Pontmercy, I'd love to chat in a bit but I've got work." Without listening to his response, she hung up abruptly.

Marius looked at the two people before him, looking dumbstruck again. "She hung up."

Anyone who looked at Montparnasse in that moment would be terrified by his bubbling anger. "Are you fucking kidding me? You let her hang up? Do you have any idea what a fucking idiot you are?"

Cosette frowned. "Montparnasse, it's okay. The fact that she picked up the phone and was able to talk for a couple of minutes is great progress already. These things can't be resolved with one phone call, but this is a really good start, okay?"

He nodded, seeming to simmer down.

"So, Marius," Cosette continued, "what did she say? Could you hear anything around her? Anything at all?"

"Y-yeah," Marius began, still a little shaken up from Mont's burst of anger, "I heard sirens and yelling and dogs before she talked. She's in the city somewhere. And, uh, maybe a bad neighborhood. I don't know."

Mont grimaced. "But did she say she was alright? I noticed you didn't ask."

"I'm sorry! I had a lot I wanted to say, I didn't get that in. I'm sorry, I am. But she didn't exactly say anything like that. She did say this one thing..."

"What was it?" Cosette asked gently, keeping an eye on Montparnasse.

"She said she's not coming back."

"Why the fuck not? What did she say, Pontmercy?"

"She said she doesn't have anything here. She said she has no friends and she doesn't care about her family or about school, and she said she doesn't have a boyfriend either. So she isn't coming back." Marius's eyes dropped to the floor, though he felt Mont's heavy gaze on him.

Silence fell over the room for a few minutes while all three mulled over that information.

Though it sounded like it pained him to continue asking questions, Mont asked, "What else did she say? Why did she hang up?"

"She said she had work and that we could talk later. So that's good, right?"

"No. Éponine doesn't work. Éponine couldn't get a job if she tried. Stores won't take her because most of them have thrown her out already. I don't even...I don't even want to think about what she's actually doing out there. 'Cause she certainly isn't working."

"We will talk to her soon. Marius will call her back in an hour or so, right?" Cosette assured a hand on both of their arms. "Now, you two sit down and take a break and I'll make some tea, okay?"

\------

After hours of waiting by Marius's phone and making a number of unanswered calls, the three of them decided there was no choice but to call it a night. Montparnasse dragged himself down the hall, head hung, for a moment before he heard loud talking from Éponine's place. Thénardier, being the blithering idiot he was, had left the door open. Out of a mixture of curiosity and disgust, he pressed himself against the wall to listen. As if on cue, the name that had been running around in his head nonstop for as long as he could remember was mentioned in their conversation. In a weird way, it struck him. It made him feel sick that for even a second, these disgusting, despicable men got to think of her. It made him so uncomfortable, that he stupidly missed much of the following conversation. 

All he could piece together was, that very night, these men were going to "drive on over there". He didn't know where. What he did know was that, from the sound of it, "over there" might include Éponine. It might have even meant they were aware of her hiding place. As he heard them nearing the door, Mont dashed to his car, determined to follow them. 

\------

After nearly two hours of driving while his heart beat out of his chest, Mont pulled over behind where Thénardier did so. Looking around, he could tell that the neighborhood around him was one of the worst around. Prostitutes and drug dealers were slumped in front of convenience stores, and within seconds, he witnessed a robbery. He wasn't scared by this, but he was worried for Éponine. If she was here, who knows what she was getting up to? 

With quiet footsteps and a pained expression, Mont followed the men on foot for about ten minutes before they stopped short and began to point at a painfully neon-lit gas station across the way. 

Fortunately decked out in all black, Montparnasse was able to slip by Thénardier and his friends without being noticed at all. 

Without even realizing his speed, Mont sprinted to the gas station in question, ignoring the honks and insults he received from the drivers he cut off. 

He began to feverishly check the place for his object of affection, but saw nothing. Until, that is, he ventured behind the obnoxiously lit building. To his shock and disgust, there Éponine was, skimpy shirt falling off of her bony shoulders, doing unmentionable things to some seedy looking forty year old. For a while, Mont couldn't say or do anything at all. 

Once the man was satisfied, he stumbled off with a disturbing smirk on his face. 

As soon as he left, Éponine slumped down against a bush, throwing her head into her hands. 

Heart nearly beating out of his chest, Mont slowly went to sat beside her. She didn't even look up or give the slightest indication that she realized someone was now beside her. 

"Éponine." He whispered gently, looking at her with wide eyes. He was too unsure to reach out to her, as much as he felt a strong urge to.

No response. Her eyes were falling shut.

"Éponine!" He spoke up, finally gathering the nerve to place a hand on her shoulder. 

With a start, her eyes opened and she jerked upwards. "Montparnasse." 

He winced at the hoarseness of her voice. It was painful, even. 

It took him by surprise to see her act so odd. Marius had reported she had sounded normal on the phone. 

"No offense, but...what's wrong with you, Ép? And who was that creepy ass guy?" 

"Nothing's wrong with me." She could barely keep her eyes open and her head looked far too big for her body, a sign that she had lost an unfortunately significant amount of weight in these few weeks. 

"Éponine. Please." He took her sunken face into his hands and blinked back the tears welling up in his eyes. "Why would you leave home for— for this?" 

"Because it was suffocating me." She could only muster a raspy whisper in response, but her half-open eyes practically begged for help. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I'm not meant to be there, Mont. It was hurting me." 

He could only look at her, then, for a few minutes while his mouth hung open. His heart felt cold suddenly, while everything else in him burned up. 

"How was it hurting you more than this shit?" 

"It felt like I was dying there. It was sad and everything hurt. Here, I don't feel anything. It's better." 

"Éponine—"

"Stop. Don't try to get me to come back. Can you just help me to the bathroom in there?" 

He nodded quickly and lifted her from the ground, practically carrying her into the creepy little gas station's bathroom. He waited outside for nearly twenty minutes before she came out with foreign expression— a big grin. 

Still unsteady, she threw herself into his arms without warning. She must've had something to drink in the bathroom, he thought. Honestly, he didn't mind. He was glad to see her smiling. Still, she never looked this happy before when she'd been drunk.

Though she seemed more eager to walk around now, she was still unsteady. He slung a protective arm around her and lead her out of the sketchy place. After checking that her father wasn't in sight any longer, he brought her to his car. 

Once he'd situated her in the passenger seat, he spoke. "Éponine, can you tell me what the hell you've been doing around here?" 

"I'm just... I don't know. Living my life? I'm doing nothing, okay? Drop it." She spoke so quickly, he could barely understand her. What was she so antsy about? 

"Éponine who was that guy back there? He was, like, fifty!" 

"That's Jeff. We have a thing."

"You mean to tell me you're dating this guy?" He asked incredulously, eyes wide. 

"Sorta. It's not a big deal. What's it to you, anyways?" 

"What is it to me that you're messing around with some seedy old guy? Éponine, do you realize how fucking insane you sound? Please, please tell me you know how insane you sound." 

"I don't see what the fuck your problem is. I'm happy. Look at me. I'm smiling! Have you ever seen me smile like this before?"

"I guess not..." He trailed off. "But still. Ép, you can't stay here. You've lost at least ten pounds and you're probably going to get infected with whatever Jeff has soon enough." 

"Leave it alone," She tapped his chest playfully, "this is where I am now. No reminders of how nobody back at home gives a shit about me, okay? I don't feel like trash." 

Mont shook his head passionately. What did he have to do to show her that he could give her all the love she needed if she would only come home and let him? He ached. "Éponine, you're going to die out here." 

"I'm gonna die soon enough anyways. At least I won't be fucking miserable." 

"Stop. Just stop. I'm taking you home right now. You don't have to go to school, you don't have to see your family, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. I promise you. I really do. Please, just live at my place and your father will never know. Nobody will have to know if you don't want them to. I just...I can't have you living out here. I can't have you fucking creep old guys and stumbling around, bound to get fucking murdered at any second. I love you too much to let you become another homeless person who dies alone in the streets. I'm begging you." 

By the time he finished his little speech and looked up, she was asleep. He took that as a chance to begin the ride back to his apartment. She couldn't protest if she wasn't conscious. 

\------

To his extreme relief, Éponine was still asleep on his bed when Montparnasse woke in the morning. He'd spent a sleepless night on the sofa, watching the bedroom door to make sure she didn't try to run for it. He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her wake up. 

"You're fucking insane, you know that?" She groaned as she sat up slowly. 

"Yeah. I know." He gave a smug smirk as he handed her a cup of coffee and a tissue for her running nose.

"Why'd you bring me back here, dumbass?" She snapped, taking a swig of the coffee. 

"You know why, Ép. I'm late for school. I take it you don't want to go? That's fine." 

"If I don't go, what are you going to do, lock me up in a tower?"

"I'll find a way." 

"Shut up. I'll go. I don't care. Whatever. I want to see the looks on those fuckers' faces." 

It wasn't convincing at all. He knew why she wanted to go. The reason started with an M and ended with an A-R-I-U-S. He didn't mind, though. It was a little odd to him that she was so eager to come all of a sudden, as before, she had acted as if school was the last place she wanted to go. But he wasn't going to complain. It seemed that, thankfully, her whole running away ordeal was over for good and they could put it behind them. 

\-------

Of course, she was still a bit fucked up from her little vacation, so Montparnasse stuck by her side all day to help her around and keep an eye on her. 

First thing in the morning, before first period, Cosette practically galloped over to the pair to embrace Éponine. 

"Éponine, I'm so glad you're back!" She exclaimed, clinging onto the girl tightly. Her even bonier build and unsteadiness was alarming to Cosette, but her excitement to see Éponine was more overwhelming. 

Marius hung behind her awkwardly, giving Éponine a wave and a nervous smile. 

Éponine, on the other hand, seemed more overjoyed than Mont had ever see her. And weirdly enough, she didn't reek of liquor. Was it the transformative powers of unrequited love, he wondered dryly to himself? Possibly. 

She threw herself into Cosette's arms as they embraced and grinned at her as they pulled apart. "It's great to be back! I missed you!" 

Cosette furrowed her eyebrows for a split second before throwing away her worries in favor of happiness. 

"Hi, Marius!" She grinned, giving him an enthusiastic wave. 

He was still feeling a bit odd about how she apparently had romantic feelings for him, but he, too, was glad to see her back and ignored his confusion and discomfort.

As he walked to math with an arm around Éponine, Montparnasse wondered if this was going to last forever.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine is back and something is really off.

Upon Éponine's arrival, Fauchelevent abandoned the quizzes he had diligently been grading and bounded over to the door where she entered, along with Marius, Cosette and, not surprisingly, Montparnasse. Taking a mental note to further examine her obviously less than healthy physical state later, he grinned. He always prided himself on being the kind of teacher who cared deeply about each of his students' personal well-being. Having gone through high school himself, he understood the stress and the teen angst— which he could only imagine had increased in the time since he graduated. Éponine's issues, well, they were beyond teen angst. And he would do everything he could to help now that this wake up call had occurred. Having a student of his go missing was more than terrifying. It kept him up every night, especially with the added factor of said missing student being a close friend of his girlfriend's family. To see Éponine in front of him was the biggest relief. 

"Éponine. Hi. We're so glad to have you back. I'm so happy you're here." His wrinkle-lined eyes were filled with satisfaction, even though he was fully prepared to receive one of her trademark snarky comebacks. 

Instead, to his surprise, he was greeted with a grin nearly as big as his own. "Thanks, man." She nodded at him once more before she scrambled to her seat, next to Marius.

Despite the overwhelming relief, Fauchelevent couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows. He wasn't stupid. He knew that Éponine often showed up to class drunk, but she wasn't today. She didn't have that sluggishness, or the stench. But how could disappearing off the face of the world for nearly a month cause such a major attitude change? He figured something must be wrong. Being over at Éponine's apartment complex often due to a certain neighbor of hers, he had confidence in the fact that he could find out what was wrong and help her. 

Éponine easily ignored the stares directed at her from every direction. Everyone knew about her disappearance. To Montparnasse's chagrin, they had made constant announcements about it on the loudspeaker once Fauchelevent got involved. There were posters up around the school, which Montparnasse had unsuccessfully attempted to remove. But, of course, Éponine never had to know about that. Or at least he hoped. He couldn't imagine the kind of hell she would set loose if she did catch wind of all the hubbub surrounding her departure. Then again, he didn't know what exactly to expect from her nowadays. 

His eyes didn't shift from looking at her for the entire period. He was terrified of her in a different way than usual. Her unpredictably was at an all time high, and her declining health only made it scarier. She didn't look back at him once. Of course, she was attracting stares from all around and the room. His stare was one of many, but it was by far the most intent. 

Éponine, on the other hand, was too busy staring at the boy sitting next to her. 

Poor Marius had no idea what to say to the girl, but he couldn't say nothing. "So, where, uh, where were you anyway?" 

"You wouldn't know the area." 

"Try me." 

"It doesn't really matter." Her unusual chipper attitude was beginning to wear off, he noted. Her big, goofy grin was fading slowly and he could feel the snarky attitude coming back. 

He wanted to ask why, maybe just to keep the conversation going, but he knew. She'd told him on the phone. She had nothing here, at home. He felt so incredibly sad for her after hearing this. How would it feel to lead a life without purpose? It was beyond his imagination. Even before Cosette came into the picture, he always had something to give his life meaning— whether it was keeping his grades up, his friendship with Courfeyrac, or indulging in a particularly good book.

"So what's there?" He asked finally, after a brief, awkward silence.

"My boyfriend." She stated flatly. Sure, her thing with Jeff certainly wasn't love, but instilling jealousy in Marius was a tactic she had not yet tried.

"Your what?" Marius asked incredulously. Here he was, thinking she liked him. And she had a boyfriend! He had no idea.

"My boyfriend. His name's Jeff. What's it to you?" She quirked an eyebrow as she rested her face on her hand.

"I just had no idea! Congratulations, Éponine! So, does Jeff go to school there?"

"Not particularly." She let out a slight chuckle, mostly at Marius' simplicity.

"Oh."

"He's forty-four."

"What?" Marius' eyes widened almost comically as he took in her statement.

"Yeah. So? I'm done with high school boys, you know?"

"Well, uh, that might not be wise. High school guys, uh, they aren't so bad. I'm sure there's one for you. Who isn't forty-four." Marius scrambled for words, shaking his head frantically as he did so.

Éponine took this as a hint. "Okay. Maybe you're right, Pontmercy."

\--------

Fully intending to get to the bottom of it, Cosette invited Éponine to come over after school and told both Marius and Montparnasse that they were more than welcome to come along. Marius was tied up with his grandfather, but Montparnasse eagerly accompanied them. 

It occurred to Montparnasse on the way that it might be uncomfortable for Éponine to walk by her parents' apartment. Keeping that in mind, he stayed by her side on the way up. 

"So, Éponine..." Cosette started, giving Mont a warning look before she continued. 

"Yeah?" 

"Marius tells me you've got a boyfriend." After hearing that the guy was in his forties, Cosette was extremely wary. What the hell was Éponine getting herself into? 

"Jeff." Montparnasse stated bitterly before Éponine could answer for herself.

Éponine nodded at him and then shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

"Well, Éponine, I don't want to be the one to rain on your parade but a forty-four year old who dates a seventeen year old seems a bit off to me. I'm sorry to say it, but I'm concerned for you." 

"You know, you're probably right." Éponine shrugged, wearing a small smile which looked out of place on her face. "It's fine. He lives two hours away, anyway. It wouldn't be much of a thing anyways, you know?" 

Mont furrowed his eyebrows at her calmness and easy going attitude at the moment. This wasn't Éponine. He was glad Cosette and himself were so invested in getting to the bottom of this. Had someone done something to her that had completely changed her outlook? What happened? He wanted so badly to be happy about her good attitude, but he knew it wasn't right. He knew something was off. 

So did Cosette. She nodded slowly, stopping suddenly as they neared her apartment. 

Éponine's eyes widened as she passed her own apartment. Montparnasse extended his hand should she need it, but she didn't even look back at him. The door, thin as always, gave way to yelling. She could hear her father's voice and all of his disgusting friends, too. While her friends tried to rush her along, she stayed still. 

Whatever amiable mood she had been in was wearing off quickly. Her eyebrows furrowed and fists clenched. Cosette and Montparnasse watched confusedly for a moment before they began to try and rush her along. She wouldn't budge. 

Through the slight crack in the door, Éponine peeked inside. To her surprise, her sister stood before her father. That was a rare sight, as Azelma always avoided conflict if at all possible. Éponine could make out Azelma nodding a few times before exiting her line of sight, beside her father. 

"Fuck." She muttered as she was hit with realization. It occurred to her just then that her disappearance had caused her father to find a new toy for his friends to play with— and this time it was her sister. 

Without another word about it, she made her way towards Cosette's apartment. 

"Éponine? What was that?" Mont asked as they walked in, close behind her. 

"Nothing. It was nothing. I just— I just need to sit down for a minute, okay?" 

"Of course! Of course, Éponine. Go right ahead." Cosette frowned, taking Éponine's arm and leading her to the couch.

"I've got it." Éponine snapped, snatching her arm away as she flopped onto the couch. 

Cosette and Montparnasse exchanged a confused glance. It seemed as if Éponine's genial mood had all but disappeared. Before they could get another word in, Éponine was asleep.

"Do you have any idea what the fuck is going on?" Montparnasse whispered. 

"No, I'm sorry. I have no idea. You know, maybe she's just been really stressed out. Maybe she didn't get much sleep last night."

"She got plenty of sleep. And 'stressed out' wouldn't come close to explaining the weird mood. I'm kind of freaking out."

"Mont, don't. I think she'll be fine. All that she went through these past few weeks— it's all been an adjustment, and those are always hard." 

The two of them talked about Éponine in hushed, worried tones for nearly four hours before she finally awoke.

"Ép, it's been four hours." Mont chuckled as he ambled over to the couch. He reached out to help her up and immediately gave a start. 

"I think she's got a fever. She's blazing hot." Wasting no time, he sat beside her and helped her into a comfortable position before rising again to run into the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. Cosette hurried over to the bathroom to find the thermometer.

"Éponine?" 

She was unresponsive as she shivered in his arms, becoming drenched in sweat. 

"Éponine, everything will, uh, be okay." His voice quivered as he attempted to reassure her. 

As she finally spoke, he could barely hear her low mutter. "I'm so cold. Mont, I'm so cold." The mutter phased into becoming more of a whine. "I'm cold." She began to sob. 

Mont didn't know what to say or do in a situation like this— all he could do was hold her and tell her everything was okay and wait until Cosette could locate the thermometer. His heart was racing and he was beginning to feel numb. How had a four hour nap reduced her to this? 

"Cosette! Can you hurry up and find it?" He yelled, terrified of being left alone with Éponine so sick. 

"Don't take me to the hospital." Éponine begged desperately, clutching at his shirt and continuing to shiver profusely. 

He let out a groan, feeling conflicted. Of course she would need serious medical attention— he had no idea how serious this was. What if it was deadly? What the hell was going on with her, he didn't know. And he hadn't the means to help her. 

Meanwhile, Cosette frantically dug through the new medicine cabinet in the new bathroom until she found the thermometer. It became clear to her after running out with the thermometer that Éponine's condition had only worsened. 

As expected, her fever was beyond high enough to warrant a hospital visit.

"We need to get her to the hospital. Now." Cosette demanded, wearing a look more serious than Mont had ever expected to see on her.

"We— uh, we can't. She said she didn't want to." He stammered, continuing to hold Éponine tightly.

"Mont, we have to. It doesn't matter if she doesn't want to. This could be fatal. We need to call 911 right now." Cosette ran into the kitchen to retrieve the phone, looking back at Éponine with furrowed brows before beginning to dial. 

"Cosette, stop!" He called, deciding that it wouldn't be fair to go against Éponine's wishes. Bringing her to hospital would only agitate her, which could possibly make things worse.

Cosette let out a long sigh and then hung up, beginning to understand his reasoning. Not wasting a second, she then ran to the freezer for an ice pack to lay on Éponine's head. 

Éponine's sobs grew louder as the ice was placed on her forehead, but, knowing that the ice was necessary to help break the fever, Mont left it where it was and held her tighter. 

Before running into the bathroom again to search for some medicine, Cosette lay a blanket on her. 

"I'm so cold, Mont. I'm so cold and it hurts so bad." Éponine sobbed, burying her head into his arm.

"I'm sorry it hurts, Ép. I'm sorry. I love you." He let it slip out without a second thought. This was not a time to hold back.

After hours and hours of nursing her, Éponine's fever had fallen to a more manageable temperature. After another, more brief nap, she was up and about, though still a little weak on her feet. 

Oddly enough, after returning from a trip to the bathroom, Éponine was back to that concerning, excellent mood. 

Before she could get herself into any more trouble, Mont took her back to his place. 

\------

After spending an agonizing two hours thinking everything over, Mont believed he knew everything. Of course, he was aggressively unhappy with the conclusion he came to, and while he tried his best to think of something more fortunate, he couldn't ignore the truth. 

"Éponine," He called through the bedroom door, "can I, uh, come in?" 

"I guess so." 

Without a second's hesitation he threw the door open and sat himself at the edge of the bed where she sat, watching the television, which he shut off.

"What the fuck, man?" 

"Éponine, I need to talk to you." His tone was grave serious. She decided to ignore that. 

"Okay. If it's about how you're in love with me or whatever, I've heard it all before." 

"Clearly your pleasant mood is beginning to wear off again."

"Clearly." She quirked an eyebrow at his word choice.

"Éponine, I know what you're doing." 

"Yeah. I'm watching the news. Great work, Sherlock." With a roll of the eyes, she turned away from him again and reached for the remote. He snatched it out of her reach before she could get to it.

"Alright, Mont. Just spit it the fuck out already. What do you want to talk about?" 

"I want to talk about how you're on drugs." He looked her directly in the eyes. 

"I'm not—"

"Are you really going to go there? Are you really going to try and deny it? I can tell, you know. I don't know what you're on, but... Ép, you need to stop. Please. You know that I've been down that road and you were there for the two fucking years it took me to get rid of that shit. Ép, if you stop now, it'll be so much easier." His eyes pleaded with her, and he grabbed her hand subconsciously. She didn't protest.

She was silent for a moment. Before she could decide exactly what to say, she spent a good minute biting her lip anxiously. "I'm fine. Just drop it, okay? I'm not doing anything. Besides drinking, like always. You're being paranoid. Don't project your drug problems on me, asshole." Her rough voice broke in the middle of her protest. Her eyes were unfocused and it was like she wasn't even trying to create a convincing lie. She didn't have the capacity to care at the moment.

"Roll up your sleeves." He demanded, his eyes shifting to match his ice cold tone.

Her reddened eyes grew wider as she stumbled out of the bed and backed away from him. "No." 

"Éponine. Right now." 

"No!" She screamed, backing her self against the wall, ready to kick him, as he approached her.

With tears beginning to well up in his dark eyes, he lunged forwards and grabbed her around the waist. Due to her recent recreational activities, she was weak. He could easily keep her down. 

"Do you want to tell me everything right now or do you want to make this hard for yourself?" 

Her only response was frantic kicking and screaming.

Having no choice but to let his tears fall freely, he quickly lifted up the sleeve of her ratty black shirt and saw exactly what he expected but didn't wish to see. 

He couldn't speak for at least two whole minutes. 

"How did this happen?" He managed to spit out, loosening his grip on her and collapsing on the bed. 

"It doesn't matter." She muttered, pulling her sleeve down again and crossing her arms. 

He stared forward, mouth open for a while. She stood in silence and watched him. 

"When does it end, Éponine? What's next? What do I need to do for you to stop doing shit like this?" He spat, unable to look at her right then. 

Her response was a shrug as she turned away from him, attempting to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. 

"Do you seriously not give a shit, Éponine? This stuff will literally kill you. I mean, I guess that doesn't matter to you...but there must be something that could be done to give you something to stop for, right?" 

She said nothing.

"Éponine, you need to quit. Now." He walked towards her again, stopping when there were bolt inches between them.

"Mont, you don't get it—"

"I do. You know I do. You were there. And I'm going to help you like you helped me. When you're up in the middle of the night feeling like you're dying, I'll hold you. I'll be there. I just can't let this happen." 

Éponine nodded her head reluctantly, looking less than genuine. It was enough for Mont, regardless.

"Thank you, Éponine." 

"Whatever." 

Without hesitation, he reached forward and embraced Éponine tightly, unable to let go for longer than she liked.

"Don't be fucking weird." She groaned. 

The indignant tone was comforting, actually. This was the Éponine he always knew. Of course, coming back wouldn't be easy for her or him. The attitude change was only the beginning. He was completely prepared for the sleepless nights and seemingly endless breakdowns. 

"Will do." He winked.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine lets Mont in more while Cosette & Marius worry. (shoutout to camille gatsbygirl99 for some ideas)

"Alright, guys! Listen up, okay?" Musichetta waved her arms wildly in order to get the attention of everybody in the auditorium. It wasn't as hard as usual. Things had been weird lately in the play, everybody was in a bit of a mood. Cosette was constantly worried and texting Montparnasse every ten minutes for updates, Marius did exactly as Cosette did, and Courfeyrac was beginning to grow beyond ticked off. And, of course, Montparnasse hadn't shown up for rehearsal for weeks. While Éponine was missing, Musichetta was of course willing to excuse his absence, but now it was beyond her control. She couldn't have one of her leads showing up once every month. The show was all set to go up in only a month. The idea of moving the date had been on her mind, but she didn't like to disappoint. 

Once she had the full attention of the cast and crew, she continued. 

"We're holding auditions for a new Jafar in this production. Please, please, please urge any talented guys you know of to come on down and audition. I know, this is all very last minute, and I'm sorry this has to be so complicated, you know? Rehearsals have been pretty off, but I'm sure we can get back into the swing of things, yeah?" 

Courfeyrac gave a whoop out of genuine excitement and Grantaire gave a sarcastic cheer while both Cosette and Marius could only offer a collective, small, barely audible "yeah" in response.

Still, Cosette's heart was a bit heavy to hear of Montparnasse's being cut from the show. Sure, he hadn't shown up to a rehearsal for weeks but with very good reason, or at least she thought so. And Cosette could see through his tough exterior— he thoroughly enjoyed the play. It acted as an escape for him. It was obvious to her that this was good for him, but now it was out of the picture. She felt sorry for him. Surely, the play wasn't on the top of his priorities at the time, but she knew it would hurt all the same. 

Cosette herself hadn't seen Mont or Éponine in over a week. After the terrifying incident at her place, the two of them had remained holed away in Mont's apartment. In one brief phone call, Mont had informed Cosette of the situation and it had really struck her. Truly, it broke her heart. She had cried herself to sleep for the following couple of nights. How could such unimaginable, horrible things happen to someone? How could a person's life reach such miserable heights within only seventeen years? Éponine had only become her friend recently, but Cosette's heart constantly ached for her lifelong struggle all the same. She was willing and eager to do everything possible to improve her friend's life. Unfortunately, Éponine had requested Cosette stay away from the apartment while she sorted things out— honestly, Éponine felt as if she needed to be a better person when she was around Cosette, and at this point, she couldn't handle that. Cosette fully understood this and respected it, though it saddened her to hear it. Still, she called and texted Mont constantly and sent her good wishes.

Meanwhile, Marius, who was less attached to the situation, channeled his time and energy into making sure Cosette didn't hurt herself. After all, the worrying, staying on top of her grades and playing the lead in the school play created loads of stress and he wanted to make sure it didn't crush her.

"Cosette, you look a little sad. Is everything okay? We can take a breather if you want." Marius murmured as he reached out to hold her hand. 

"Everything's fine. Everything is fine for me, I mean. It's just too bad that Montparnasse can't be in the play anymore because I think he was really enjoying himself. This is all just... really hard for him. I feel awful for him but I can't even see him or go over there and help." She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing her chestnut locks to cascade down his back. 

"At some point, I think, you need to put your own happiness first, okay? I hate to see you so upset. I know that you love your friends and that you're only trying to help them, but there isn't any reason that you should put your life on hold for them." 

"Yes, there is. That's what friends are for, Marius. The reason I'm so upset is because I care about my friends and that's a good thing. Speaking of which..." She paused for a minute, eyeing someone in the aisle behind them. 

"What?" 

"Courfeyrac? You haven't hung out with him in forever. You shouldn't abandon him on my account, okay? Why don't you to talk to him now? I'm going to call Mont, okay?" 

\--------

Today was a good day for Mont and Éponine. After a rough night, everything was beginning to run smoothly. She acted like her normal self— bitchy, snarky and sharp, but maybe a bit more vulnerable than usual. Earlier in the morning, she had even let a few tears of frustration fall in front of him, which was new. She didn't like to cry in front of anyone. 

For the better part of two hours, the pair had been parked on the couch, eating through seemingly endless supplies of Oreos and ice cream. 

Throughout the process of ditching the heroin habit— which addressing directly still made Mont quiver— Mont tried his best to give Éponine everything she wanted. He understood that she felt unable to function without drinking, so he provided, as long as she stayed off drugs. 

Plus, she only drank enough to feel sane and not enough to get wasted.

"I'm surprised you've got all this high-calorie stuff, Mont. Aren't you always 'watching your figure' or something?" Éponine remarked, though she wasn't complaining as she ripped open the second package of cookies.

"Oh, shut up. My figure doesn't need much minding anymore." He laughed in response, kicking his feet up and trying his very hardest to cherish every second of this peace.

"Yeah, alright. I'm not going to dignify that with a response."

"You would kill to look like me, Ép. Admit it."

"There are lots of things I would kill for, but that's not one of them." She chuckled. 

"Alright. What would you kill for, then? A date with Marius, I presume?" 

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up!" She whacked him with a pillow, mouth full of cookies. 

"Fine, fine. If that's not it, then enlighten me." He quirked a playful eyebrow, successfully dodging her second whack. 

"I would kill for money. Sometimes I'd kill for food. Usually, I'd kill for everybody else to shut the fuck up."

"Inspiring. You know, most people would have something meaningful to say."

"Oh, sure," Her eyes were rolled dramatically, "like what? World peace?"

"Something along those lines. World peace, family, friends. I don't know. I, on the other hand, would only kill to maintain my look."

"Disgusting." 

Ten minutes of comfortable, welcome silence ensued until Mont spoke up again.

"So, basically, the only thing that would make you happy is other people shutting the fuck up?" 

"Yeah. So?" 

"Nothing. It's just sad, kind of. The only thing you're passionate about is, like, hatred." He shrugged, hoping she didn't whoop his ass for that comment. Admittedly, she was beginning to regain her strength, meaning she could most likely take him in a fight any day. He pretended not to know this. 

"I'll get over it." She rolled her eyes, preferring to avoid the heart to heart she felt coming on.

"What do you love?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Deep down, he hoped his name would come up but something told him it wouldn't. Still, he wanted to know either way. He wanted her to open up to him and it became apparent that it wouldn't happen unless the confessions and tears were forced out of her. 

"Can we skip this?" Her expression hardened. 

"No. Not really. Come on, Ép. If you don't talk about how you feel—"

"I'll implode." She finished sarcastically.

"—You'll feel isolated. And that's depressing as shit, so spit it out." 

Figuring it would be easier to give him what he wanted and get it done with, she sighed in resignation. "Fine. I love booze and maybe a couple people." 

"I'm going to ignore the first part and ask what people?" 

"You, dumbass. But not like that, so don't get any ideas." 

Involuntarily, he grinned. If she loved him, at the very least, as a friend, then who could say that different feelings couldn't end up developing? 

"Who else? If you're going to say Marius, you can spare me the gory details." 

"Okay. Not that there are any details to speak of, gory or otherwise. He barely speaks to me." She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest with a petulant sigh. 

"Probably because he has a girlfriend." Mont muttered, trying to gather the courage within himself to reach his hand out to her, fully knowing that such a bold move could cause her to run away. 

"No fucking shit. Better yet, she's my friend." 

"She's been asking about you every single day. She calls me every morning." His eyes were set intently on her as she avoided his glance pointedly.

"That's nice." She grumbled.

"Are you sure you don't want to see her? It's been weeks, Éponine. Don't you miss her? She really misses you." 

"Drop it, Mont. I don't want to fuck things up with her, okay? I don't want her to think I'm more awful than she already knows I am." Her scowl was growing into more of a frown while her voice thickened with what sounded like tears.

"You're not awful, Éponine. Cosette is very understanding." 

"She wouldn't understand. Even if she tried." 

"Maybe you're right," he reasoned, "maybe she doesn't understand. But she misses you so much. Don't you want to just say hi or something? You don't have to talk about it and if you start to feel weird, she'll leave."

"I don't know. Maybe." 

"Okay. I'll take that...but, uh..." 

"What now?" Turning away from him even further, she sighed.

"Somehow, your sister got my number..." 

"Jesus fucking Christ. I told her to fuck off." 

"She has been texting me every day. And I haven't replied but I thought you should know." He handed his phone to her gently, his conversation with Azelma open. 

Éponine groaned as she read the texts her sister had sent. "Shit. 'Please just tell me she is okay. From, Azelma.' 'Montparnasse, sorry to bother you but do you know where Éponine is? I'm scared. From, Azelma.' 'Please text me back. All you have to say is that she is not in trouble. And maybe tell her I love her if you think she won't be angry. From, Azelma.'" 

Éponine sat in silence for a moment as she scanned the texts over and over. Her heart sank a bit at the pure desperation and misery she sensed from Azelma. How was she supposed to shake the unwarranted feelings Azelma was throwing at her? She gave Azelma nothing to love, nothing to care about and yet her absence was keeping her sister up at night. The odd twinge of guilt was only increased by what she'd see the other day— Azelma had taken her place as the daughter who was treated like a piece of meat. Though she admittedly didn't give two shits about her little sister, it still felt like a punch to Éponine's gut to see it happening. In a way, it felt as if she was watching herself, but in an alternate universe where she was passive and obedient. It tripped her up to even think about it, so she preferred not to. 

"That's pathetic." Éponine finally spit out, shoving the phone back at its owner.

"A little bit. But it's sorta sad, don't you think? Sad enough to deserve a response?" Mont quirked an eyebrow, taking the phone back reluctantly. 

"Not really. I don't want to get involved with whatever is going on at my dad's. That's why I motored out of here in the first place, you know? I'm just fucking over it, the way he treated me and shit. And now it's her turn. But the most pathetic part is that she's just gonna take it. She probably still thinks he loves her, too. Pathetic, like I said." At this point, she was biting back tears and try as she might, she couldn't quite explain why, not even to herself.

"I understand." Before shoving his phone back in his pocket, he composed a quick text to Azelma. The last thing he wanted to do was to go against Éponine's will, but something told him that deep down, she wanted to lighten her sister's load in some way. "Azelma— your sister is fine, and with me. She's actually really good and happy." Before sending it, he added a quick addition— allowing himself to be lead by his gut. "She's at my apartment. You know where. Come by whenever. I think she misses you. -Montparnasse." Send. 

\----------

That night, as Éponine suffered through the unfortunately regular nightly shivers and sweats, Mont wrapped the largest blanket he could find around her, slipping under it as well. As she whimpered softly and shook furiously, he clutched onto her as if his life depended on it. The fit didn't pass for a good four hours, and by that point the two of them were both awake still, baggy eyed and ready to drift off to sleep. 

Without giving the action a second thought, Éponine nuzzled her head into his shoulder for comfort as he wrapped a protective arm around her, tracing the length of her bony arm with one finger. Almost subconsciously, Éponine wrapped both of her arms around his middle and fell asleep what seemed like seconds later. Unable to ignore the rapid beating of his heart, Mont remained awake, eyes fixated on Éponine's chest rising up and down as she seemingly slept in peace, the slightest hint of a smirk on her sunken face. It took nearly another four hours of holding her for the novelty to wear off and for Mont to finally drift off to sleep. 

\----------

When Éponine woke up the next morning, entwined in a tangle of limbs and blanket, she furrowed her eyebrows for a moment. She wanted to be disgusted, but instead a warm feeling coursed through her veins, an unfamiliar feeling. Not wanting to wake Mont up before she left, she tiptoed to the door and stood in the doorway for a moment studying him before scurrying away, feeling a bit sorry for what she was about to do. 

Before she could hurry out the front door, there was a soft knock on it. 

"Who the fuck..." She whispered to herself before hoisting herself up to see through the peephole. 

To her unpleasant surprise, her sister stood nervously at the door, eyes wide and hands fidgeting nervously. 

Reluctantly, Éponine threw the door open and crossed her arms. 

Azelma grinned a crooked, but painfully genuine grin at the sight of her sister. "Éponine! I missed you!" She threw her arms around her big sister, who stood motionless and stiff. 

"Okay." Éponine replied flatly, stepping out of the one-sided hug and giving her sister an awkward half-smile out of pity.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Éponine. You must be busy. But I miss you so much. And I needed to see you in person to make sure Mont wasn't just saying that you were okay!" 

"Wait, what did Mont say to you?" Éponine squinted, suddenly hearing footsteps behind her. Upon hearing his name, Mont tried to back away, but it was too late. "Mont, I hear you. Get the fuck in here." 

"Hi, Montparnasse. Thanks for inviting me over." 

"Mont! What the fuck? Did I tell you that you could invite her over?" Éponine snapped, giving him a look that honestly chilled him to the bone.

"I'm sorry—" Azelma started, starting for the door again. 

"Don't be," Mont called after her, "don't leave. You and I both know that your sister is a cold bitch, but I think she wants to talk to you." 

"You thought wrong." Éponine whacked him subtly without looking at him. 

"Éponine, if you have something you want to say to me, by all means..." 

Mont gave her a prompting look, and her general state of weakness made it a bit harder to stand her ground. It only took a few minutes of his insisting for her to spit it out.

Feeling a bit faint, Éponine plopped down on the couch, followed by Mont and Azelma. Azelma placed herself across from her and Mont opted to sit beside Éponine.

"Azelma, what the fuck are dad and his friends trying to pull on you?" Éponine came out and asked, scrunching up her nose subconsciously. 

"Nothing. It's fine." Azelma immediately tensed up as the subject was mentioned.

"Come on." Éponine groaned, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

"I don't want you to be mad at them because it will only make things worse." Azelma pouted.

"I'm already mad at them. I've been mad at them since I was ten. Now, spit it out." 

Azelma shook her head, eyes glued onto her lap. Not only was it too painful to talk about, but she didn't want to freak Éponine out or cause her any trouble.

"Azelma." 

"They want me to...have sex with them. And they say things to me." 

Mont groaned and Éponine leaned forward, eyes ablaze with anger. She'd never felt this protective over her sister, but the thought of those men taking advantage of Azelma made her insides burn. 

"Of fucking course. They're scum. They're fucking scum, 'Zelma. But you know what? They did the same thing to me and I was a lot better off because I'm not a wimp who takes shit. You hear me? You have to flat-out say no to them or this will never stop and it will ruin your life. Can you try to defy them, please? Can you at least try?" Éponine was thrown off by the sisterly compassion that engulfed her, but she was too focused on the issue at hand to question it too much. 

"I'll try, Éponine, but they're so mean." Her big eyes were welling up with tears and her bottom lip was quivering but she tried to be strong in front of her sister. 

"Okay. All you can do is try, I guess." Éponine nodded slowly, eyes blank and devoid of the passionate emotion she had been filled with just moments before. 

"I'm late for school. Goodbye, Montparnasse. Thanks for everything." 

"Bye, 'Zelma. Good luck." 

"Thanks. Éponine, I love you. I'll see you soon, I hope." 

Éponine's only response was another slow nod. 

"Are you okay, Ép?" Mont wrapped a supportive arm around her. Without a word, she leaned against his shoulder and let a few tears drop onto his cashmere sweater. He didn't even protest. 

He understood that she didn't have the words to describe the complexities of what went on in her head nowadays or her feelings. 

"I love you." He whispered into her hair. 

Instead of responding with words, she once again wrapped both arms around his middle. Somehow, that said more than those three words themselves.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some big moments to make up for the long wait...

Though Mont's company wasn't completely unpleasant lately, Éponine couldn't wait for him to leave. She knew he was on the job at some point today. Slipping out while he slept had proven unsuccessful due to her sister's hard hitting visit.

For hours, Mont and Éponine had sat in thoughtful silence, bodies intertwined. Though he repeatedly told himself it meant nothing and that Éponine just needed comfort in the form of physical contact, Mont's heart beat like a drum. 

At the first sight of her stirring, Mont furrowed his eyebrows and looked down into her eyes. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine." Éponine shook her head quickly, retracting her arms just as quickly. 

Mont couldn't help but let out a sigh. The moment that hung comfortably in the air for hours had vanished, all thanks to his idiocy. Again. "I guess I'll head out then."

"I guess." She replied shortly, though his departure brought a small smile to her face. Finally.

"You're not going to get yourself in trouble are you?" He laughed, but she couldn't quite tell whether he was really joking or not. 

"Wouldn't dream of it." She responded, sarcasm biting through her words. 

With another long sigh, Mont was off. 

After waiting ten minutes just to be safe, Éponine scurried outside, sneaking around the back of the building where, as expected, she saw a familiar, unpleasant face.

"Your little boyfriend ain't home?" Jeff's grating, ugly voice hissed.

"He's not my— he's gone." Éponine muttered, eyes aimed at her shoes.

Without another word, his grimy hand groped her thigh and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing this to be over already. 

\---------

Hours later, a loud slam of the door woke up Éponine, who had been sprawled across the couch for a good half hour.

One eye open, she gave Mont a quick nod and rolled over to resume her slumber. The living room reeked of liquor. 

"Get up." Mont instructed, voice cold but slightly wavering. Turning to him with one eye half open, Éponine slowly, unsteadily rose until she was sitting upright. 

"The fuck?" She rubbed at her groggy eyes, ignoring his intense gaze. 

"What did you do while I was gone?" Mont demanded, taking a seat beside her, not knowing what to do next and in turn avoiding the sight of her by placing his head atop his hands, which where propped up on his lap. 

"Slept." She shrugged. 

"Drank." He continued for her, gesturing subtly at the bottle on the floor. 

"S'that a problem?" 

"No, that's not the problem but I wish you could have a coherent conversation with me right now." He dared to look up at her, lips in a straight thin line. 

"What do you want?" She inquired, heaving a long, heavy sigh.

"I saw him, Éponine. I saw Jeff on the way back here." His nostrils flared as he spoke, voice thick with emotion. Fresh tears were just about ready to fall.

"No you didn't." She replied flatly, turning as far from his as possible. She very well knew that if he saw her face, he could tell she was lying.

"Seriously, Ép? Are you seriously trying to pull this on me? After all the shit we've been through lately, after all the time and effort and— and fucking all of it— you would do this? You would do this and then you wouldn't fucking tell me? I know it's true, Ép. I know. Just be honest and it'll hurt a lot less." His voice wavered uncontrollably as tears began to gather in his dark eyes. "Please."

"He was here."

Mont remained silent for a moment, clenching his jaw tightly.

"What did you do with him, Éponine?"

"Not what you think," She allowed her eyes to meet his, because this time she was telling the truth, "I didn't use. I swear on— I swear on whatever's meaningful. I didn't."

"Really?" Mont fumed, fists clenched. "You think I'm a fucking idiot? Just—come on, Ép. What'd you do, grab a cup of coffee?" 

The last thing Éponine wanted to do was explain exactly what had occurred behind his apartment building, but her stomach turned as her eyes met Montparnasse's and for once his were not encouraging and hopeful. They looked empty. They didn't look as if they contained the love for her they so consistently did. It never occurred to her how much she needed his love until this moment. Despite her trouble reciprocating it, his love fueled her recently. It assured her, it was a security blanket she didn't realize how tightly she clung onto. 

Eyebrows furrowed, she broke her gaze for a moment to look down at her lap before beginning. "Jeff was here today because—because I owed him, okay?"

"What do you mean?" He raised his eyebrows the slightest bit, which Éponine took as a good sign. He was at least open to listening.

"The, uh, the thing we had going on...it was like a sort of deal. He would, uh, you know...hook me up and I would—"

"You would have sex with the sick fuck?" His eyes were ablaze.

Her lack of an answer was enough of an answer for him.

"Jesus, Éponine. I don't get it. I thought you were above whoring yourself out to creepy old men. I knew you were messing around with him, but—"

"Just— drop it, okay? It's over with. That was the last time." In a moment of impulsiveness, Éponine reached for his hand, clenched in a fist. The moment he felt her touch, his fist dissolved, long, bruised, fingers wrapping around her tiny ones.

"Are you sure about that? Because if you're lying—"

"Do I lie?" She smirked, her question dripping with sarcasm. 

"Often, yes." 

Untangling her fingers from his and grabbing a pillow to whack him with, Éponine seemed in better spirits. 

His hand suddenly felt empty without hers, but he ignored the feeling and chalked it up to his own dramatic ways. It didn't mean anything. By the looks of it, she was drunk anyways. Not drunk enough to slur her words or trip over the carpet, but enough to do things she probably didn't mean. He shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of stupidly hopeful thoughts.

Lately, she had been giving off all kinds of mixed signals. Sure, he understood the context of the situation— she was recovering and he was a crutch. He knew it was wrong to read into anything at all. He knew none of it meant anything at all, and yet every embrace, every touch that lingered a second too long, and every seemingly significant second of eye contact felt like love to him. And she wouldn't leave his mind. 

"Does it feel different? Now that Jeff is out of the picture?" Mont asked after a few minute's silence. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. Can we just—can we fucking stop? I'm done talking about this shit. Leave me alone." The subsequent glare chilled him to the bone, as her glares so often did. Of course. Their moment of peace must have lasted too long, Mont thought. He should have predicted another mood swing, but then again, Éponine was nothing if not unpredictable. 

"I'm sorry, Ép. I'm done talking about it." His gaze turned towards the ground, lips pursed.

"Don't even," She spat, standing from the couch abruptly and beginning to pace around the room, "Stop walking on eggshells around me like I'm unstable, like if you say the wrong thing I'll burn the fucking apartment down. You think I'm crazy, don't you? You think I'm fucking insane." The look in her eyes was a disturbing cocktail of anger, despair and insanity. It made his stomach turn. 

This was what he often forgot about while daydreaming about her. Sometimes, being around her could be terrifying to him— terrified for his own sake, and hers. Éponine had always been prone to mood swings but only recently had they gotten to this borderline deranged level. 

"I don't think you're crazy, Éponine. You know that I don't. I don't think you're uns—" His eyes were wide as he carefully watched her every movement.

"You do!" Her shrill scream filled the apartment, tiny body trembling from the force. 

"Ép, you're okay—" He started towards her, ignoring his fear to take on a gentle, comforting expression.

Nearly backing herself into the wall, Éponine shook her head vehemently. "Don't come near me! Don't!" By now, tears were running down her angular face as she screamed at him. 

Hands shaking slightly, he slowly continued towards her, maintaining eye contact and trying everything in his power to show her he only wanted to help. 

As soon as he reached her, he extended his arms and held her shoulders tightly, attempting to calm her ragged breathing. 

"No! No! Don't!" Her screams rang in his ear, but he remained by her side. 

"It'll be okay, Éponine, I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going to hurt you." He whispered in her ear.

With one final scream, she reached into her back pocket and retrieved the small knife she kept there and stuck the blade into his thigh, crumbling into a puddle of tears as he cried out in agony.

"Fuck..." He muttered, eyes fluttering. 

Eyes widened and chest heaving up and down intensely, Éponine kneeled over him, in complete disbelief of what she had done.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." Her words were barely audible, and he couldn't process them anyway. Nearly unconscious, Mont lay on the ground, motionless. 

Éponine continued to sob, looking around frantically as if something productive could come of it. In a moment of clarity, she reached for the cell phone peeking out of his pocket. 

Instead of dialing 911, her shaking hands dialed Cosette's cell phone number.

\----------

Cosette's phone rang while she sat beside her mother in the car, on the way home from rehearsal. Exhausted and having recently stretched herself out too thin, she nearly fell asleep in the passenger seat of her mother's van.

Noticing the call was from Mont, she straightened up immediately. Fantine's eyebrows furrowed— Cosette had consistently kept her updated on the matter, and her stomach turned whenever the subject of conversation went that way, which it often did, considering it was all Cosette could think about. 

"Montparnasse, what's up?" 

Her expression dropped as she heard feminine sobbing on the other side of the phone, Éponine's surely, based on the guttural moans. 

"Éponine? Éponine, what's wrong? Éponine?"

"I—I h—Mont is hurt...Mont is hurt. Please. Help, please. Cosette, are you there?" 

"I'm here. I'm on my way. Just—stay where you are and you'll be okay, Mont will be okay, just stay where you are and don't do anything. Mom, Mont's apartment." 

\--------------

As Cosette bounded into the apartment, Fantine followed closely behind, clutching the first aid kit they kept in the car. It had never come into use until now. 

"Éponine, what happened?" Cosette whispered, jaw dropping as she knelt beside Éponine. Mont lay on the ground, unconscious, blood seeping through his light wash jeans.

Éponine was silent. Cosette wanted nothing less than to jump to conclusions, but— who else could have done this? Éponine held the knife, Éponine was alone with Montparnasse in his apartment. 

Fantine called 911 while Cosette fashioned a tourniquet to tie around his thigh. Though she was quick and helpful in such a situation, Cosette's heart was pounding. As they awaited the arrival of the paramedics, Cosette wrapped an arm around Éponine and ran her hand up and down her friend's back soothingly. 

"I did it." Éponine confessed in a whisper, turning away to wipe away her tears as if Cosette hadn't already seen them. 

"Why?" Cosette asked, of course more than ready to give her the benefit of the doubt. 

Éponine shook her head furiously. In what way could she just come out and say "I did it because I'm fucking insane. I did it because I'm delusional and forgot where I was. I did it because I'm unstable" without getting sent away for life? 

"I don't know. I didn't think I was myself and I didn't think he was Mont. I—I sound insane."

"You don't. I understand. Can you continue?" 

"I wasn't— I...I was freaking out and I can't remember why, but I was freaking out and he was...he was coming closer to me and I felt dizzy and my head was telling me that he was somebody else— someone I know— and right after I did it, I realized it was—" Her voice began to waver as fresh tears cascaded down her face. 

The mental turmoil Éponine endured was beyond what Cosette could even begin to imagine. All she could really do was comfort Éponine, kiss her head and tell her everything would be okay, even if she wasn't so sure herself. 

"You're not crazy, Éponine. I don't think you're crazy." Cosette whispered into her hair, passing her mom a meaningful look across the room. 

\---------------

Éponine didn't sleep that night. All night long, she sobbed and screamed into her pillow. It was one thing when she felt trapped in her mind, when she hurt herself and made herself miserable, but this horrible feeling would never leave her gut. She hurt her best friend. Who could say what she'd do next? Kill him? Kill someone else? She shivered with fear as she thought of the possibilities, as she thought of the chilling fact that she couldn't control herself or her actions. When she lost her head, she lost it. Her confession to Cosette was the complete truth. As Mont approached her in that moment, arms outstretched, her mind caused his face to take on the form of her father's. His words weren't comforting or gentle as they were intended, they felt aggressive and confrontational, threatening. 

Would he ever speak to her again, she wondered? Who would willingly continue to offer his heart and home to a deranged bitch who stabbed him? She was prepared to visit him in the hospital come morning, but was he prepared to see her, she wondered? 

\----------

The morning was a rainy one as Fantine drove Éponine to the hospital, remaining silent and deciding not to incite a conversation unless Éponine wanted to. It seemed the girl was a loose cannon and Fantine did not want to set her off. 

Éponine looked like hell. Her hair was a ratty mess, as she'd been pulling on it all night. Her face was blotchy, red to the point where it looked nearly purple and her eyes were a bright red, surrounded by gruesome bags. She didn't bother with her lopsided tank top or unevenly rolled up ripped jeans. 

Cosette received her as she walked in, eyebrows furrowing in pity as she embraced her friend. "Did you sleep last night?" 

"What do you think?" Éponine shot back, cutting the hug short to get down to business. "Where is he?" 

"I'll take you. He's been asking for you, you know. He's going to be okay, really. It was pretty deep but it didn't hit anything dangerous. He's just staying here for a bit to avoid infection and they have him on painkillers." 

Éponine nodded in acknowledgement. 

He looked pale and there were significant bags under his eyes, too. 

"Hey there." Éponine leaned against the doorway, waiting for his approval to actually enter the room. 

He sat up slowly, facing her with a weary smile. "Come over here." 

Walking slowly and as steadily as possible, her eyes were glued to him. 

"Mont, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" 

"I know. I told you I understand. I wasn't fucking with you." He gave a small chuckle.

"I didn't think you were, but you don't have to accept me pulling a knife on you just because you promised to put up with me, Mont. Really. If you don't want to—" 

"I told you that I love you. Nothing has changed. I'm not going to walk away, Éponine, but under one condition, alright?" 

"What's that?"'

"You need help that I can't give you by myself. Like professional help, and I'm not saying you're crazy, I'm saying you're sick. You're sick, Ép, and that's why you did this. You know I never forgot what you told me months ago, about why you do shit like this. I'd never turn my back on you for that, Ép. Never." 

"I'll never understand but I'm not complaining." Éponine smirked, taking his hand gently. "And I'll do it, Mont, even though it'll probably be real fucking annoying. I'll do it. But I'm gonna complain to no end."

"I'll put up with it." A small smile rose on his lips as his eyes met hers. 

"So this is kind of fucked up, huh?" Éponine remarked dryly, eyes still lingering on his. "It's fucked up that, uh, that this is how I realize I love you?" 

Mont was speechless. His eyes lit up, shining and not leaving hers for a second. Everything he'd been waiting for, it was real now. Every time he dreamed of her the second his head hit the pillow, every time he sat in class day dreaming, it was real now. Their fairy tale could begin, and he didn't care about the circumstances at hand. No matter what they faced, at least now he could hold her hand through it without having to worry about her pulling it away. 

"Ugh, you know I don't like to say—" 

"Nice things?" 

"Exactly. I hate saying nice things, asshole." 

"Hey, Ép? You hospitalized me. Let's hear it." 

"Fuck you," She rolled her eyes, though in good spirits, "This is going to be sort of fucking gross."

"I love gross." Mont grinned like a child whose mom finally caved and bought him a candy bar in the grocery store. 

"Well I just said the big thing—"

"Say it again, Ép." 

"I love you, dumbass. And, uh, I probably could've saved myself some misery by doing this earlier, huh? Like sometime in the, what, eight years I've known you?"

"Nine and two months." 

"Creep."

"Continue."

"I love everything about you. Fuck, Mont, I don't know. I just fucking love you, okay?" Éponine shook her head in embarrassment, turning a bride shade of red.

"I'll take it. Do I have to reiterate what I've stated in at least five embarrassingly inconvenient situations?" Mont squeezed her hand tighter as pain surged through his leg, but continued to smile up at her. 

"No, I've heard that speech a few times from you. Sad, really." 

"Hey—"

"Sad, but also sweet." Éponine tilted her head to the side playfully, tracing his hand with her fingers. 

"What about that Martin Pennybush guy that you were so obsessed with?" Mont asked teasingly, realizing only seconds later that Cosette and Marius had just appeared in the door way. 

Éponine leaned over and whispered "Couldn't give a shit about me if he tried. And he's not you..." into Mont's ear before kissing his forehead goodbye and gesturing to Cosette that she was ready to go.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Éponine and Montparnasse finally being together doesn't resolve anything, apparently.

Grinning from ear to ear, Cosette grasped Éponine's hand. "Did I just see what I think I saw?"

"Maybe." Éponine attempted to remain nonchalant, but a smile broke out on her lips, too. She couldn't push down the joy she felt, and that wasn't such a bad thing.

"Oh, Éponine! I'm so happy for you! You can double date with Marius and I. Oh, Éponine! Éponine!" Cosette jumped up and down, her voluminous curls bouncing gracefully.

"Alright, calm down." Éponine rolled her eyes, half playfully. Despite the joy and excitement, there was still guilt running through her mind. She couldn't just forget what she had done, even though forgetting seemed to be exactly what Mont wanted her to do. "There's nothing to be too excited about. I still fucked up."

"But he's forgiven you, Éponine. He understands what you're going through and that's why he loves you so much. Don't spoil this for yourself, okay? You deserve this." Cosette's wide grin had transitioned into a small, reassuring smile as she placed a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Whatever." Éponine shrugged, starting out the door. Cosette and Fantine followed her, looking at each other knowingly.

"I'm going back to school, by the way. Wednesday, with Mont." Éponine announced softly, taking a deep breath as she publicized the decision she hadn't even really thought about before this moment.

"I can't wait." Cosette grinned, though her expression faded a small bit as she realized the musical-related disappointment that would face Mont upon his return on Wednesday. 

\----------

"How many 'y's should I put in my 'hey' so that he knows I'm into him?" Courfeyrac asked in complete seriousness. It was a typical Friday afternoon after rehearsal— Courf and Marius were sprawled across the couch in Courf's basement, half-watching a movie and periodically shoving handfuls of popcorn in their mouths.

"Wait, who?" Marius asked, eyebrows furrowed. Courf hadn't mentioned any prospects lately as far as Marius knew.

"Dude, keep up. It's Combeferre!"

"Who in the world is that?"

"Do you, like, ever take your eyes off of Cosette for a second to look at your surroundings?" Courf gave an exaggerated eye roll, sloppily shoving some popcorn in his mouth,

"Uh..."

"Didn't think so." Courf replied with a mouth overflowing with popcorn.

"But tell me about him, please. What's he like?"

"Hot. And smart, and he's just got this really cool vibe, you know? Like he could do fucking rocket science but could also give you the best fu—"

"Got it." Marius blushed, fully ready to cover his ears if Courf continued on that path.

"No, but like, were partners on this project and I was all 'This is how I'll get to know him' right? But then I'm a fucking idiot, so I forgot about the project, walked into class on Monday and realized he did the whole thing without even contacting me. So much for that. Can't complain though, we got a 100 on it."

"Good job, Courf!" Marius nodded encouragingly. Courf didn't tend to get A's very often in school.

"I think you missed the point."

"I would try to give you advice, Courf, but you know I'm hopeless."

"No shit, man. I did all the work with you and Cosette. Everything. I take credit for that entire operation."

"You have every right to. I don't thank you nearly enough!"

"Are you kidding? You've thanked me, like, a thousand times. I wish you'd thank me less."

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry..."

Courf rolled his eyes, not even needing to speak to make it clear to Marius that he was being dense again.

"Ooh, you're right. Sorry."

"Speaking of things you say too much..." Courf joked, playfully hitting his friend's shoulder. 

\------------------

Marius wore a goofy smile on his face as he headed up to Cosette's apartment, having just been dropped off by Courf's dad. 

Being able to spend the day with his favorite people was exciting to Marius, especially after the morning he had. His grandfather was in a mood and trying to get past him had been quite the ordeal. After dodging insults and keeping his head down all morning, it felt good to be out and about.

While making his way up the rusty, worryingly creaky stairs to Cosette's place, Marius was so surprised to see Éponine in front of him that he nearly—fatally—skipped a step. 

"Uh, hi, Éponine." He stammered, awkwardly bounding up a few stairs to reach her level. Of course, he'd just seen her at the hospital two days before while accompanying Cosette but her presence in the apartment building took him by surprise. Why would she go anywhere near her father's apartment? 

"Hey, Pontmercy. What's good?" 

"Nothing. I was just with Cou—" Marius didn't finish his friend's name. He had nearly forgotten the tension between Éponine and Courfeyrac— he didn't want to involve himself with that and especially not today. 

"Courfeyrac," Éponine finished with a curt nod, eyes facing forward and not straying to him, "I know who he is, you know. And last time I checked, he hates me more than I hate him. I don't have the energy to keep up with his hatred. It's a depression thing." 

"Oh—"

"Yeah, I only said that to make you uncomfortable. Anyway." 

"I hear you're finally dating Montparnasse." 

"Yeah. What's it to you?" At this point, having been informed that Marius knew about her brief crush on him, Éponine's sole intent was to make the kid squirm. Since thankfully giving up her stupid crush, she had realized how easy a target the kid really was. Damn, she'd have some fun with this one, she figured.

"Oh, I was merely bringing it u—" 

"Sure you were, Pontmercy. I know you're a bit of a player. I can read you like a fucking book. Don't you dare hurt Cosette with your womanizing ways, you hear me?" 

"Uhhh....." 

"See y'round, Marius!" 

"Um, bye?" 

\--------------

After waiting five minutes for good measure, Éponine approached the door of her father's apartment, feeling as if her heart's intense thuds echoed throughout the empty hallway. It wasn't a good idea. At all. She knew what she was getting herself into but at the same time she didn't. Still, the disgusting feeling had not left her stomach since that brief but chilling conversation with Azelma. 

Before she could change her mind, Éponine knocked on the door firmly. She had made this decision rather impulsively, in fact, she was surprised she had followed through— surprised and a little impressed. 

To her surprise, the door opened slowly to reveal her little sister. 

"Éponine! What are you doing here?" Azelma asked in an aggressive whisper.

"Saving your sorry ass." Éponine answered with a bitter laugh, roughly pulling her sister out of the doorway and shutting the door.

"Is everything okay? Are you okay?" Azelma asked, eyes wide with confusion.

Without another word, Éponine grabbed onto Azelma's arm and dragged her down the intimidating staircase quickly.

"Éponine, I can't believe you're doing this for me! Really, I c—"

"Well, believe it. And shut up."

"Okay. Sorry. I'm just a little bit scared of what Dad will do when he notices I'm gone..."

"If he notices you're gone."

"Well, he sure noticed you were gone, Ép." Azelma muttered, following her sister out to the parking lot where Mont's truck awaited them. He had only been discharged from the hospital that very morning. He breathed a deep sigh of relief upon Éponine's return. His heart had been beating nearly out of his chest as he worried about what would happen to her.

Azelma, however, eagerly hopped in the backseat of the truck, while keeping an anxious eye on the hideous apartment building. 

"Hey, 'Zel." Mont nodded in the rearview mirror, smiling. Éponine's acceptance towards her sister made him proud, it made him feel as if Éponine was growing and becoming better every day— not that he didn't already think she was spectacular. 

"Hi, Montparsse. Thank you for...whatever this is. But you might want to get moving, my father is going to be home any minute now." 

With that, Mont quickly hit the gas. 

\------------

While Cosette and Fantine were occupied in the kitchen, their respective boyfriends, Marius and Mr. Fauchelevent were treated to an awkward silence in the living room which the two men now had all to themselves.

"How are your grades, Marius? I know you're doing very well in math this year. You're a very, very bright boy." Fauchelevent broke the silent, ditching the novel in his hands and making direct eye contact with a very nervous student of his.

"They're just fine, sir. Thank you, sir. I like math a lot. I enjoy your class, sir." Marius nodded with a tight smile, his freckled face turning a bright shade of red.

"Glad to hear it. I do apologize, however, if you were disappointed that you can't sit next to your friend, Michel Courfeyrac, anymore. I'm sure you understand that you're not the problem but some other students just couldn't behave and made the entire class lose their right to choose their seats." Fauchelevent said, crossing one leg over the other nonchalantly.

"No, no. No. Not a problem at all, sir. I understand. I like my new seat very much. Éponine is my friend, too."

"Good. I'm glad you two are friends. I don't think she has many. You must be a very good influence on her. Cosette loves her to pieces, and she says that she is a very nice girl but a little misguided. Would you agree with that?"

"Yes, sir."

Thankfully, Cosette graced the room with her presence before the awkward conversation could drag on any longer.

Before she could get a word out, the sounds of shouting and breaking glass at an unavoidable volume arose from the apartment next door. Cosette's eyebrows furrowed as she reached out for Marius's hand.

Fauchelevent rose from his chair to his formidable height, ready to intervene if necessary.

"Azelma is there." Cosette whispered, her delicate features taking on the look of fear.

"Is Éponine there, too?" Fauchelevent asked, starting towards the door.

"I don't think so," Cosette shook her head slowly, "she hasn't been home in weeks."

"She is today. I saw her on my way up here." Marius admitted quietly, hanging his head in shame as if there was something he could have done to prevent her from getting into this mess.

With that, Fauchelevent was out the door while Fantine, Cosette, and Marius listened through the wall fearfully.

After Fauchelevent's strong knock on the door, Thénardier opened it roughly, clearly drunk out of his mind with a big cigar hanging out of his foul mouth.

"What d'you want?"

"Are your daughters home?"

"No, both the little sluts fucked me over. And I ain't whoring them out to just anyone, you tightass piece of shit." Thénardier took the cigar out of his mouth for a second to spit on Fauchelevent's shoes.

"Let me in, Thénardier."

Without any kind of approval from Thénardier, Fauchelevent pushed his way inside and looked around at the apartment surrounding him. He didn't see any trace of the girls, luckily, but by the looks of it, a bottle of rum had been broken against the wall. A dirty, pudgy man was slumped against the couch with an unidentified bottle of liquor and a woman he vaguely recognized as Éponine's mother sat on the couch with her feet propped up on the table, watching the shopping channel, a cigarette in hand. Neither of them paid any mind to Fauchelevent.

As if he had forgotten the math teacher's presence, Thénardier stumbled over to his wife, plopping down next to her on the couch.

"What're my boys goin' ta think when they come over and I don't got either of my girls to entertain them. Pathetic."

Fauchelevent felt utterly disgusted. He stormed out of the apartment in disbelief, anger boiling inside of him. He knew that throwing a punch at Thénardier, though tempting, would end badly and wouldn't be productive in any way. The horrible man would take the anger out on his girls if they ever had the misfortune of returning to the dreadful place.

Upon entering Fantine's apartment again, he slammed the door with such power that it nearly came unhinged.

"The girls aren't home." Fauchelevent growled, his face nearly purple with anger. "I never want them back there again. I will see it done."

"Sit down, honey. Don't work yourself up, let's talk about this." Fantine urged, taking his burly arm and sitting him down. 

"The man is— he is disgusting. He is a pig and he uses his daughters to...to 'entertain' his repulsive friends. I feel sick." 

Cosette squeezed Marius's hand tightly, lips pursed even tighter.

"I have to find those girls and I need to keep them far away." 

Fantine gave Cosette a meaningful look. They both knew exactly where Éponine had been hiding. Cosette replied with a short nod. 

"I know where you can find Éponine. As for Azelma, I don't know." Cosette declared, taken aback by how quickly Fauchelevent stood at her announcement.

"Where to?" 

\-----------

"So, you guys are official now? Finally?" Azelma beamed. 

Éponine's legs were draped over Montparnasse while his arm surrounded her, allowing a space for her head to rest against his chest. They certainly didn't waste any time. 

"Took her long enough to finally come to terms with how fucking spectacular I am." Mont teased, placing a soft kiss on Éponine's head just because he could.

"He wore me down." Éponine muttered, though the words were muffled by Mont's old leather jacket. 

Azelma nodded as if she had heard exactly what Éponine said. Of course, she was thrilled to see her sister this way— happy. She didn't want to read into anything, but the day's events really made it seem as if her sister cared for her, loved her. Azelma's insides felt all warm and fuzzy as she sat there, observing what she thought to be the truest love she'd ever witness. 

Éponine separated herself from Montparnasse for a moment to lean forward and face Azelma.

"What's happened since we last talked?" 

"What do you mean?"

"Dumbass, what do you think? With dad." Éponine rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, causing Azelma's joy to falter for a moment. 

"I don't want you to worry about it." Azelma replied sheepishly, shifting her gaze to the floor.

"Too late." 

"Really, Ép? You're worried about me?" Her wide eyes lit up immediately at even the slightest indication of love from her sister. 

"Fuck, Azelma, will you just spit it out already?" Éponine's tone was changing. Azelma took the hint.

"On Tuesday, Cosette's mom gave me a ride home from school and so I walked into the apartment and only Mom was there. I tried to talk to her, but she didn't want to talk anymore so I went into the kitchen." 

"Is this going anywhere?" Éponine groaned.

"Éponine, let her finish." Mont murmured, placing a hand on Éponine's back. 

"And then Mom came into the kitchen. And she told me that Dad was bringing his friends over and that they had been talking about me and...what they wanted to do. I was so scared, but Mom wouldn't let me leave. But actually, she was being kind of nice and she gave me something and told me to drink it before they came." 

"You didn't!" Éponine barked, giving a start. 

Azelma hung her head. "I did. I'm sorry." 

Éponine's fists clenched so hard they turned white within seconds. Silence ensued for a minute or two. Éponine finally ended it by giving the table a good kick and then sitting back. "What next?"

"I can't remember it very well. They came over and they were all touching me." 

"Of fucking course they were." Éponine threw her hands in the air furiously. Montparnasse slung a soothing arm over her and ran his fingers up and down her arm gently. 

"And they were all so scary."

"Azelma, tell me you didn't..."

Azelma's sudden bursting into tears was enough of an answer for Éponine. 

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Éponine said coldly, her tone flat as well as her expression. 

Azelma looked up from her tears with a confused expression, wondering how Éponine had been so lively and passionate a moment before and now looked dead, emotionless. 

"I didn't know you were a skank, Azelma. I didn't think you were. I didn't think you were a little fucking skank, but there we have it." Éponine hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Éponine!" Azelma begged, eyes pleading and continuing to fill with fresh tears.

Montparnasse looked at Éponine in shock. Why would she blame Azelma for what their father had manipulated her into doing? Éponine knew exactly how the dynamic worked, she knew what Azelma was going through. It baffled Mont that she could say such a thing. 

Without another word, Éponine stood up and promptly kicked over the damn table, then storming off to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry, Azelma. I don't think she's angry at you." Mont tried after a brief silence.

"Yes, she is. She just called me a skank. I don't understand, I thought she knew that I didn't want to." Azelma whispered, giving Mont one of the most heartbreaking expressions he had seen.

"She's angry at your father and she's taking it out on you. You know what? I think she's angry at herself for letting the same thing happen to you." Mont whispered back, only realizing the truth as he said it out loud. 

"I'm sorry that I upset her. Maybe I shouldn't stay here after all." She began to stand up, attempting to wipe the tears on her face while new ones threatened to pour down her cheek. 

"Where else could you possibly go? Look, Éponine brought you here because she wants you to stay here. She's just in a mood right now, which, admittedly, happens a lot but she'll be fine in a little while if we leave her alone." Montparnasse eyed his injured leg as he said this.

"I know but I get scared when she's alone."

"You're right. I'll go check on her now."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saving Azelma is starting to seem like it might cause more trouble than it's worth

"Éponine?" Mont's voice traveled through the door gently as he knocked tentatively. 

Her only response was a low, guttural groan. Somehow, he took it as an invitation, opening the door carefully. Éponine sat, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head buried in her knees and her little hands clenched in fists. Tears continued to cascade down her cheeks, much to her disgust. After another moment, she lifted her head slowly to face him, swatting angrily at the accumulating tears. 

Her eyes remained locked on his for an entire minute before she opened her mouth, although that minute of silence said a lot. Mont often found himself underestimating the power of silence. 

"I don't really want to talk about it, but I have a feeling you're going to make me." Éponine muttered, weakly attempting to light-heartedly make fun of him. 

Humoring her, he let out a quiet chuckle as he made his way to the bed and sat beside her, swinging a comforting arm around her bony shoulders. "It's not your fault, Ép." 

"Good job," She laughed bitterly, "You said exactly what you're supposed to say. You must have extensive training in how to deal with psycho girlfriends." 

"Do you want me to laugh at that or do you want me to apologize?" Mont quirked an eyebrow as he turned his head to face her. 

"Neither. I just want you to stop talking." Éponine said flatly, wrapping herself around his comforting embrace. 

He did as she said. Within minutes, they were laying down on the bed, her small body enclosed in his. They didn't say a word, remaining like this for hours, losing track of time. 

Hours later, when Mont left to answer the doorbell, Azelma was gone without a trace. 

Mont didn't intend to tell Éponine right at that moment, but to his surprise, she had been right behind him, following him out of the bedroom. Upon hearing her sigh, Mont turned to face her, frozen, with no idea of what to say or do.

"Just answer the fucking door." Éponine groaned, rolling her eyes and plopping down on the couch.

At the door stood, to Mont's surprise, Cosette, Marius, Fantine and his math teacher.

Before Mont had the chance to extend an awkward greeting, Cosette spoke.

"Is Éponine there?" She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, of course," He gestured for them to come inside, "Why?"

"Um, hi?" Éponine responded, eyes down, moving over so that everyone could take a seat in the crowded living room.

"I had the misfortune of encountering your father," Fauchelevent explained, "Where is your sister?"

Mont and Éponine exchanged a look.

"She was just here but she left. We don't know where she went." Mont sighed.

"She might have gone home..." Éponine muttered exasperatedly.

"I can't let that child go back there." Fauchelevent shook his head, standing up only moments after he sat.

"She might not be there yet. It's a long walk and it's snowing outside. I'm not sure exactly when she left." Mont pointed out, standing as well.

Éponine was silent. Pointedly so.

"And if she's there already?" Cosette wondered, her voice unusually high and squeaky due to her nerves. 

"Then I will go in." Fauchelevent said decisively. 

"That's an awful idea." Éponine muttered, making pointed eye contact with the math teacher. 

Everyone was silent for a moment, contemplating. Éponine would know best, but they would feel awful if they couldn't do anything for Azelma. 

"What if we report the parents to social services? They won't let Azelma stay with them anymore." Fantine tried, lips pursed.

Éponine let out a barking laugh. "Yeah, right. That works." 

"They've been reported before," Mont explained gently, "they always find a way to slip through the cracks. They let their little boys get away but not Éponine and Azelma." 

Fauchelevent shuddered. "I know why." 

"Aren't you smart?" Éponine bit out sarcastically, beginning to take issue with all the Thénardier talk. It bothered her beyond even her own understanding what her sister was put through in her absence, but at the same time, she wanted to walk away. The way she grew up, she had learned long ago that looking out for herself came first and it was hard enough to do that. Despite her reservations, Azelma was her sister and there was at least a small piece of Éponine that felt for her little sister, especially with the knowledge of what was happening to her lately. But why would she choose to go back there? Why would she put herself in that situation just to attempt to save her sister from it?

Fauchelevent placed a gentle hand on Éponine's shoulder but she shook it off with a growl. "Stop it."

"Éponine, I am only trying to protect you and your sister." Fauchelevent argued gently, clasping his hands together thoughtfully.

"You must think you're pretty fucking heroic, right?" Éponine spat, her expression turning even colder and more bitter than it was before.

"This isn't about me, Éponine, it's about you and Azelma. Please, let us help you."

"I don't need any of your fucking help, okay? I can take care of myself. Back off." Éponine stood with a start, running to the bedroom and slamming the door loudly.

Without a word, Montparnasse followed her with haste, flashing a quick, apologetic look to the others.

"Ép, sometimes you need help. Everybody needs help! Come on, Ép." Mont pleaded, standing in the doorway.

"Fuck off." Éponine groaned, burying herself under a mountain of blankets. 

"Alright. You're supposedly fine. What about Azelma?" Mont approached her, taking on a less gentle tone and seating himself right next to her on the bed. 

Éponine was silent.

"Come on. She's your sister, Éponine." Mont pleaded, gingerly placing a hand on her shoulder.

Éponine arose finally from the nest of blankets, fists clenched and eyes ablaze with anger. "I don't care!" She shouted, swatting his gentle hand away.

Mont shook his head slowly. "Act like a fucking human being, will you?" He snapped, standing up with a start and beginning to pace around the room.

"When did you become so soft?" Éponine spat, standing up moments after him and stomping towards him with a confrontational air. "Remember when you weren't a fucking pussy? When you would have agreed to dump the little skank on her ass without hesitating? What the fuck happened to that guy?" 

Mont turned from her, aware that he would be unable to face the anger on her face without letting it add to his own quickly accumulating anger. "I guess constantly cleaning up after you has given me some capacity for human emotions." 

"Good for you," Éponine replied with a dark, sarcastic laugh, "you're a fucking saint. You're a hero. Is that what you want me to say?" 

"Éponine, don't be—" Mont tried, before being cut off.

"Because it's not true. You're not a saint. You're not even a nice guy. All you are is a fucking pussy." Éponine fumed, leaving no space between their two bodies even as he turned away from her. 

After a moment's silence, Mont turned around slowly, his face twisted with anger. 

"I thought you were nothing like your parents, but it looks like I was wrong." Mont pointed out coldly, pushing past her and leaving the room to join the others in their search for Azelma. 

Éponine stood alone, her fists still balled up. She was nothing like her parents, she assured herself. For years, every action was an attempt to separate herself from those people. To be rid of them and their influence was her dream, above all else. And for the person she loved most to compare her to her parents— it hurt. Mont knew that, of course. He intended for it to hurt. Éponine knew that. He probably didn't really mean it, she knew that, too. But that didn't soften the blow. Not at all. 

\--------------

Searching for Azelma proved useless— clearly she had gone back home, however unfortunate. 

Though just about everybody else in the car was having second thoughts, Fauchlevent was hellbent on confronting Thénardier at home. As he made this intention clear, Fantine gave him a pleading look. 

"Sweetie, I don't know about this." 

"Fantine, please. Trust me. I am a capable man, I can manage in the presence of some— slimy piece of garbage." Fauchlevent meaningfully locked eyes with Fantine for a moment before turning his eyes back towards the road ahead. The apartment complex was only minutes away. Mont nearly chuckled as he noticed that they were in the very spot where he had inappropriately, prematurely kissed Éponine on the way home from the hospital. The hospital. The thought of that experience sent chills down his spine. He shivered visibly.

"Montparnasse, are you alright?" Cosette whispered, receiving a curt nod in response. 

Really, he wasn't. He was wracked with guilt. Maybe Éponine was right— he had gone soft. Even just months ago, he had wronged Éponine and felt just fine. He had left her, wasted, collapsed in the hallway at school without looking back. Of course, that was before his feelings for her had become obvious to him. Those feelings were precisely what had turned him soft. Due to those feelings, the guilt of hurting Éponine, even verbally, left him with an aching stomach and shaking hands. And allowing the memory of her hospital visit into his head hadn't helped very much. In short, he was kind of a mess. 

Although she received the hint indicating that Mont was in no mood to talk, Cosette could sense his distress, though she mistook it for nerves. Regardless, she wore a concerned frown. 

\------------

"I'll go in with you." Mont blurted as the group approached Thénardier's apartment. 

While Fauchelevent's instinct was to protest the teenager's desire to face the formidable danger of a most likely drunken criminal, he understood the circumstances. He understood Mont's connection to Thénardier's daughters— one more so than the other — and his desire to help.

"I'll allow it, but please be careful, Montparnasse." 

After Cosette, Marius, and Fantine scrambled into their apartment, intending to listen through the wall, Fauchelevent gave Thénardier's door a solid knock. 

"You again." Thénardier mumbled disappointedly. 

"I see the whole gang is here." Fauchelevent commented dryly as he looked inside and saw a slew of unsavory men gathered in the apartment. 

"And now Mont's here, too." Thénardier said with an accompanying burp, roughly pulling Mont inside by the arm and blocking the doorway to Fauchelevent. 

Mont shoved his hands in his pocket, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible while scanning the apartment for Azelma. 

"Where've you been, kid?" Brujon asked, drunkenly slinging a smelly arm around Mont's shoulders.

"Uh, I've been around. You know. At school and shit." 

"Well, Thénardier's been wonderin' on account of you being our getaway driver, y'know?" 

"Maybe I was tired of being the getaway driver." Mont muttered under his breath, shaking himself free of Brujon and approaching Azelma's bedroom. 

Without knocking, Mont pushed Azelma's door open and immediately closed it behind him. To his shock and disgust, there was Azelma— and she was not alone. Mont couldn't say he was surprised by what he saw. Babet had always been the slimiest and creepiest of them all. 

Mont found himself frozen for a second, weighing his options. Neither of them had seen him, he could run away. But he needed to help her. Hurting Éponine like that— it couldn't be for nothing.

"Get lost, Babet." Montparnasse sneered, standing tall and defiant. Maybe he wasn't so soft after all.

Babet didn't hear him. In fact, neither Babet nor Azelma gave the slightest indication that they had registered his presence at all. Really, he did not wish to approach them. He didn't want to be any closer to the disgusting violation before him. Still, he hadn't gone completely soft. Slowly but surely, he approached the bed and kicked it. 

"Mont?" Azelma looked up confusedly, causing Babet to stop and look up, too. 

"Bugger off, kid, would ya? I'm busy." Babet spat, his lips twisting into a nasty grimace.

"I need 'Zelma." Mont stated flatly, trying his best to avert his eyes. He did not need to see that much of Babet, or Azelma for that matter. 

While Azelma's eyes practically screamed for help, she shook her head quickly. "I'm staying here."

"Azelma!" Mont hissed, his eyes widening as he tried to get the point across to Azelma.

Again, she shook her head, turning to give Babet a shy smile. "I'm fine. Babet really likes me."

Mont's jaw dropped open. She couldn't be serious. How could the poor girl fall for his slimy tricks? The guy was a pervert. What could have turned Azelma so desperate that she would cling on to any hint of affection? The question answered itself. She'd just been tossed aside by her idol, her big sister, for the last time. Azelma was done being tossed aside. Mont understood where she came from but how she could sell herself out like this— it didn't make sense to him.

"Azelma, do you really—" Mont began, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Mont," Azelma interrupted suddenly, "go away. You shouldn't be here. I am fine." Though her words hit him like a ton of bricks, they were delivered gently, softly, so that he could almost see a glimpse of the Azelma he thought he knew. The Azelma he knew was scared, nervous, abandoned, desperate— but not without morals.

"Bye, Azelma." Mont replied coldly on his way out, "I hope he treats you well." 

Unable to face Fauchelevent after the failure of his mission, Mont pushed past everyone else in the apartment and right out the door. He needed to see Éponine, anyways.

\-----------

"I gotta hand it to you." Mont called out upon arriving to the apartment. He assumed Éponine sat behind the bedroom door, where he had left her not too long before. His encounter with Azelma didn't take as long as he had expected it to, and it certainly didn't end like he expected it to. 

Éponine didn't reply. This was odd, as she would usually jump at the chance to be proven right. 

"Ép?" Mont approached the door, his stomach beginning to twist. It had almost slipped his mind that he'd most definitely hurt her with his cold insult. And then he'd left her alone. Shit. That could not be good. Mont clenched his jaw, attempting to mentally prepare himself for yet another crisis. It was always something with Éponine, wasn't it? 

"Hi." Éponine called through the door with an annoyed sigh. 

"Are you alright?" Mont asked softly as he entered the room, sitting on the edge of the bed carefully. 

"Yes. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me. So we got in a fight. No big deal. I don't even remember what you said." Éponine shrugged, her thin arms folded across her chest. 

"Yes, you do." Mont sighed, reaching out for her hand.

"I'm trying not to. Can't you just let it go?" Éponine pleaded, taking his hand in hers. Of course she remembered what said. It took every ounce of self-control for her to sit there in front of him and resist the urge to cry and scream. But she loved him. And the idea of scaring him off was one that often ran through her head and it terrified her. To prevent that, she was willing to attempt to keep her emotions in check, however hard that was. And it proved to be fucking hard.

"If that's what you want. I am sorry though, I have to say that. I can't go without letting you know that I'm sorry I said that. And don't act like you just shook it off like nothing. I know it hurt you, Ép. I know you. And I need to talk to you about Azelma." Mont looked into her eyes intently as he ran his thumb over her hand. 

Without another word, Éponine quickly left the room. Mont let her. Smothering her was far from his intention. 

An hour later, upon hearing the door open, Mont hurried into the living room to see what was going on. His guess was that Fauchelevent had come to discuss their experience at the Thénardiers. 

To his surprise, there stood Éponine with his car keys in hand. 

"Where are you headed?" Mont asked with furrow eyebrows. Éponine didn't like to drive. She didn't have a license— not that this had stopped her from driving in the past due to necessity. She wasn't a bad driver.

"I'm going to my parents' place." Éponine mumbled, fumbling around with the keys sloppily. 

Mont shut his eyes exasperatedly for a moment. "Ép. What the fuck?" 

"What?" Éponine argued, throwing her arms in the air dramatically.

"You're drunk." 

"No shit." Éponine said with a guttural laugh, leaning against the open doorway. 

"You can't drive. And I'm not going to take you there. It's a bad idea, okay?" Mont marched over to the doorway and snatched the keys out of her hands easily. Éponine reached out for his arm and grasped it, pulling him in for a kiss. As they locked lips, Éponine's grip moved from his arm to his hair and her sloppy kisses were periodically interrupted with bites. 

"Inside?" Mont managed to breathe between kisses. Éponine shook her head quickly and continued. He pulled away slowly, holding her shoulders and meeting her eyes with his. 

"What?" Éponine whispered, biting her lip. 

"I'm not taking advantage. Do you really want to go to your father's?" Mont wondered as Éponine continued to feel him up. 

She nodded her head. 

"Well, fine. But I'm driving. And I'm going in with you."

Despite the drawbacks of Éponine returning to her childhood home, Mont came to realize that she may be the only person who could get through to her sister. In addition, Thénardier and his comrades wouldn't notice her existence if she was sly enough. 

With a mischievous grin, Éponine grabbed his hand and, running, lead the way.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bombs are dropped

Before Mont could get a word of his warning speech in, Éponine scrambled out of the car and scurried towards the apartment building unsteadily. Mont remained right behind her, ready to abort the mission at any time. 

"You know, you can back out if you want to. I won't think any less of you!" Mont tried, realizing that while he supported her in whatever it was she wanted to do, this might not be the best time for it. She was going to get herself into trouble and all he could do was stand by and watch because he was the idiot who drove her in the first place.

"Will you shut up? It's fun, okay? It's gonna be fucking great." She let out a short, low chuckle, reaching behind her to grasp his hand. Turning around to face him, she started kissing his neck, their fingers still intertwined. 

"Éponine..." Montparnasse muttered, trying his very best not to let out a moan. He wasn't exactly in any place to complain, but now was not the time for this. 

"Oh my god, what?!" Éponine groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "What is the problem, Mont? I'm trying to do something cool. It's going to be cool, can you be cool? For five seconds? Please!" 

"What's this all about?" Mont asked softly, running a gentle hand through her messy hair. "You need to calm down. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. This wouldn't exactly be fun, Ép."

"I know what I'm getting myself into." Éponine furrowed her eyebrows in surprise at his concern. "I know my audience. I lived there for my whole life. What makes you think I don't know what I'm getting myself into?"

"Éponine, you're drunk. Please." Mont held onto her shoulders tightly.

"I know I am. I'm sorry." Suddenly her mood turned completely, it seemed. She burrowed her head under his shoulder, still standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Mont didn't know what to say. Before he could get anything out, she was gone.

"Suck it!" She called loudly, making her best effort to sprint away. Drunk as she was, she was still pretty fast. And knowing her, Mont knew that if she really wanted to go through with this, his words would do nothing to stop her. All he could hope to do was stand behind her and prepare for damage control.

Hovering protectively, Mont watch Éponine knock furiously on the door of her former home. His stomach was turning but again, there was nothing he could do about it. She was a force of nature. Sometimes that attribute wasn't as admirable and beautiful as he thought it to be.

Her mother answered the door with a hand placed impatiently on her hip and a sneer on her unpleasant face.

"Yes?" Her mother demanded with a nasty tone. Her beady eyes squinted as she looked her absentee daughter up and down. Not that Éponine's absence had been a problem to her mother.

"Good to see you, too, Mom." Éponine rolled her eyes. She pushed past her mother, despite the woman's significant size advantage and entered the apartment. Mont quickly followed her, ignoring Madame Thénardier's frightening glare.

Oh, shit. Mont hadn't gotten the chance to warn Éponine about Azelma and Babet. This might crush her. He wished he had the time to deliver it gently back at home, but now he winced as he realized how she might have to find out.

As expected, Thénardier was sprawled across the couch in his boxers, a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Thankfully, he didn't notice Éponine creeping around. Mont furrowed his eyebrows, unsure as to what Éponine's plans were. Was she going to confront her father or drag her sister out by her ear? It was beyond him. 

He nodded as he realized that Éponine was headed in the direction of her shared bedroom. Mont trailed behind her, wearing a small smirk. It was a relief to see her trying to resolve things with her little sister. He couldn't stand to see their relationship crumble under the pressure of their home life. Much to his surprise, three seconds into Éponine's visit with her sister, any kind of resolution was completely out of the picture. Éponine really shouldn't have found out this way. The moment she laid eyes on her sister and the slimy pedophile, her face was distorted with anger and disgust.

"You! You're a useless skank!" Éponine called out drunkenly as the door hit the wall after being swung open. "You're a fucking liar, you bitch! That whole crying act? Fucking fake. Just like you, apparently!" 

Éponine had come with the intentions of sharing a cheesy sisterly bonding moment, maybe going in for a weak hug. Her intentions, though poorly thought out, were good. 

"Éponine, stop it!" Azelma cried, turning her head away from Babet as he attempted to nibble her ear. She was perched upon his lap, but she rose quickly. "Please don't."

Mont considered intervening but decided he didn't want to set Éponine off. He was seeing firsthand what kind of mood she was currently in."

"Fuck off." Mont couldn't help but mutter under his breath as he watched the scene unfold.

Éponine gave him a short, pained look and then turned away again, lips pursed. "Gross, no. She's fifteen, okay? You're a pervert, you know that?"

"Sixteen." Azelma corrected quietly.

"I'm not talking to you," Éponine hissed, "you're both useless."

Figuring Éponine's mood had improved, Mont leaned over to whisper a suggestion.

"Ask Azelma to come home with us."

"You do it." Éponine whispered back, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Azelma, come with us." Mont groaned, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. He could clearly see how it was going to play out. 

"I can't." Azelma shook her head, tears welling up in her wide blue eyes. "And even if I could..."

"She wouldn't." Babet finished for her, his hand traveling suspiciously close to her ass. 

Éponine shook her head. "I thought you loved me, Azelma. You always said you did, even if I didn't give you anything in return. Isn't that what sisters are for?"

Éponine's motives were selfish. Her intention wasn't to lead Azelma into safety. Her intention was to receive the validation she constantly received from her little sister's adoration.

Azelma bit her lip thoughtfully, taking a moment before an answer was given.

"Maybe I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you being hot and cold. I'm sick of you wanting me around one second and slapping me around the next. I hate how you have so much power over me. If you hurt me, I cry myself to sleep. If you say something that can be perceived as even slightly kind, I can't stop smiling for hours. I loved you so much." Azelma said quickly, her eyes widening as she made realizations out loud.

"But you don't anymore." Éponine stated flatly.

"Well—" Azelma began.

"Why not?"

"You were my idol, Éponine. I wanted to be you. You were the only person in the world who I thought couldn't really let me down. Mom and Dad let me down the first time he hit me and she let him. Gavroche let me down when he ran away and left us here, without even asking if we wanted to come along. But I thought you never would. The thing is, I didn't realize it at the time, but you have let me down every single day. Every single time you tear me apart, every time you ignored me and my feelings, every time you tried to destroy yourself without thinking about how I would feel, you let me down. You let me down when you ran away and left me here alone without my big sister to defend me, or at least pretend to. You let me down right now, showing up drunk and calling me skank. You let me down when you judged me for doing exactly what you did and practically chased me out of your apartment. But above all else, you let me down when you chose Montparnasse over me. I don't look up to you anymore. When I think about you, I cry. I cry because you hurt me in a way I never thought you could. I built my world around you and you tore it apart, brick by brick. I cry because all I can do is worry about you and what you'll do to yourself and to me. I'm not going to act like your sister anymore, because never acted like mine." By the time she finished, tears were streaming down Azelma's delicate face.

Fed up with the drama, Babet made his way out of the room, laughing to himself. The room was silent for too long. Éponine stared at her sister in stunned silence while Mont stared at Éponine worriedly, as if she'd drop dead at any moment. Azelma's teary eyes were downcast.

Éponine cleared her throat a few minutes later, attempting to find the words she wanted to say in response. It wasn't easy. She was still in shock. Had those things really come out of the mouth of her sweet, obedient sister? Her stomach churned and her legs felt as if they would give way under her.

"Tell us how you really feel." Éponine quipped darkly, under her breath.

"But before you go, you should know this." Azelma added softly, looking up at her sister meekly.

Still wide-eyed, Éponine nodded for her to continue.

"I'm pregnant."

\------------

Prompting Éponine to talk seemed like a poor decision to Montparnasse as they headed towards his truck. Although, he was dying to know what was running through her troubled mind at the moment. Mont himself was shocked and appalled at the news. Poor Azelma was barely sixteen and had already endured her fair share of bad circumstances. Éponine strode quickly, wordlessly. Her expression was fairly blank and difficult to read, as if her silence wasn't difficult enough for Mont to decipher. All Mont could do was vow to stay by Éponine's side and prevent her from hurting herself. That would be quite the task in itself. 

The drive back to his apartment seemed like an endless blur of trees and concrete as they both processed the news with sickened stomachs. Mont couldn't be the first to speak. It wasn't his place, it wasn't his family. But Éponine remained stoic. Her sister's announcement had effectively sobered her up, much to her displeasure. 

Entering the apartment in silence, Mont kept a watchful eye on Éponine as she slowly pulled off her boots and pointedly avoided his eye contact. 

"If you look away for a second, I won't jump out the fucking window." Éponine spat, breaking the silence. She turned away from him and towards the bathroom, walking quickly and throwing him the middle finger when she heard his footsteps following her. He stopped in his tracks and waited until she was inside the bathroom to stand outside the door. He didn't hear crying or screaming or items being thrown, which was worrisome. Calling for her would only enrage her, so he stuck with listening closely. 

Suddenly, the lock was turned. 

"Éponine, unlock the door!" Mont called, banging with the palm of his hand. 

"Fuck off!" 

Mont replied with only an exasperated sigh as he threw his head back, hitting the door. 

Moments later, she emerged, unscathed and unpleasant. 

"I think we have to break up." Éponine stated nonchalantly, stepping over him to get by. 

Mont stood with a start, following her around the apartment. "What? Why?" 

"I don't like how you treat me." Éponine said flatly, digging through the fridge and emerging with a bottle of vodka. 

"Éponine..." Mont started. His thick brows were furrowed and he looked thoroughly defeated. 

"You kind of treat me like a baby. You act like you're so much better than me, like you're trying to teach me how to live, as if you're the expert. You're a fucking idiot. You're an idiot and you're a hypocrite." Éponine stated in a calmer tone than he would have expected, taking a relaxed swig from the bottle. "But, you know what? You're a cute idiot and you're a cute hypocrite."

"Well sorry, but I'm usually right." Mont joked, trying to read the tone of the conversation. Once again, she made him beyond confused. Then again, he envisioned her freaking out if he took it too seriously. 

"Funny guy!" Éponine barked, making her way towards the couch with Mont following her like a puppy. 

"I like to think so." Mont smirked, sitting down beside her and swinging an arm around her. He almost forgot her bold statement about breaking up.

Placing the bottle on her lap, Éponine glanced at him for a moment and suddenly stood up. 

"We have school tomorrow." She pointed out calmly, taking another swig and retiring to the bedroom. 

"It's five o'clock..." He muttered to himself, baffled.

He had a feeling he would be sleeping on the couch that night. Frustrated and confused as he was, he tried to be understanding as she processed Azelma's pregnancy. But something was weird. It was weird because she seemed pretty okay. A little manic maybe, but okay. And Éponine didn't tend to be okay, especially not in the face of unfortunate news.

\----------------

Once inside the bedroom, Éponine darted towards the closet, rooting around for the old green jacket she hadn't worn since she was thirteen. Sure enough, there it was and in the right pocket, her hand hit a wrinkled photograph. Bracing herself with a deep breath and another swig from the bottle, Éponine fished the photograph out of the pocket, eyes shut. She hadn't held this photograph since she was thirteen, the desire to had never arrived until this moment. To her own surprise, tears welled in her eyes as she laid eyes upon the crinkled sonogram in her hand. 

The abortion was not her idea. In fact, thirteen-year-old Éponine wasn't half as bitter and jaded as the girl was presently. At thirteen, Éponine retained a glimmer of hope and of optimism. She wanted to keep the baby and raise it as her own. She wanted someone to love unconditionally, she thought she was capable of doing so. She had love and hope in her heart and the desire to pass those things on to her baby. The baby's conception was a lot of firsts for Éponine. It was the first time she drank herself into oblivion, the first time she was raped by Babet, the first time she had sex. She still couldn't remember the night, but everything after it was clear as day. Her parents had to figure it out for themselves when her baggy shirts stopped doing the trick. By that point, she already knew she was having a girl. Babet took her to the doctor once in a while under the condition that she would make it up to him in horrible, unthinkable ways. The baby's name was Lisette and Éponine was in love with her from the second she learned of her existence. She got her through the day, and kept her up all night dreaming about their future. 

When her father found out, he grabbed her by the ear and called her a string of unsavory names. He didn't want a baby around. Hell, he didn't want little Azelma even. Éponine was only good for one thing and now she'd gone and ruined it. He pulled her, practically by the air, out of the apartment and took her to a sketchy clinic. This far along in her pregnancy, an abortion was completely illegal and unsafe but he forced her to go through with it anyways. Éponine sobbed and screamed and begged at his feet. She promised to do whatever he wanted, to give him and his friends anything they wanted. In response to her wracking sobs, Thénardier kicked her in the face. 

From there, Éponine opted to drink herself to sleep every night instead of cry. She developed an intense sense of pessimism and hardened into the woman she presently was. All hope was shattered, ripped away from her.

"Lisette..." She whispered to the picture, holding back more tears. Instead of shoving the picture back into the pocket of that old jacket, she slipped it in the pocket of her jeans. 

Before a new batch of tears could form, the door swung open. 

"Sorry, I'm just grabbing my moisturizer." Mont tiptoed past Éponine and snatched the lotion. Before he took another step, Éponine reached out and grabbed his arm firmly. She was no longer crying, but her red eyes indicated that some crying had happened. He took her hand and cocked his head to the side, trying desperately to read her, yet again. 

She wanted to tell him. This whole situation dug up the past, it dug up her most heartbreaking experience. As much as she tried to push it down, it was on the surface now. Her heart was breaking all over again and without realizing it, she was crying again. To go through it alone again seemed unbearable, but at the same time she couldn't tell him. He already babied her. She couldn't stand to lose any more of her dignity. 

Without a word, Mont enveloped her in a warm hug. It was all he could think to do.

Before Éponine knew it, she was wracked with sobs, sinking down to the floor with her head in her hands while Mont stood above her in shock and confusion. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered gently, kneeling down beside her. "I'm sorry about Azelma." 

Hundreds of memories raced through Éponine's mind as her crying grew louder and louder. The pink and purple dress she stole for the baby crossed her mind. It was for a toddles, but the thirteen year old hadn't known the difference. Much like she had all those years ago, Éponine cried herself to sleep. She fell asleep after ten minutes, her head resting on Mont's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about your sister." He whispered again. Little did he know.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's back to school for Mont and Éponine!

Montparnasse didn't indulge himself in even a minute of sleep. Figuring he would compensate with caffeine for school in the morning, he opted to stroke Éponine's hair and think all night. It was still hard for him to tell what exactly her deal was. How the hell was he supposed to help her if he hadn't the slightest clue what he was working against? 

And in the morning, as he promised to himself, Mont filled up on coffee before gently waking Éponine with a soft whisper in her ear and a kiss on the forehead. She woke quickly, never having been a heavy sleeper. With the chaos she had endured, staying alert was key. 

"Looks like I slept on the ground." Éponine remarked as she rose, a hint of laughter evident in her voice. 

"Yeah, you were out like a light." Mont smiled affectionately, kissing her softly again. 

"You didn't move me? What am I, a dog?" She joked as she made her way into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and not-so-slyly dumping in a generous portion of whatever was in her flask.

"I always thought you were more of a cat than a dog. You're grumpy, kind of bitchy, not very energetic, not super friendly..." 

"Aren't you charming today!" Éponine smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in for a long kiss. 

Thankfully, she seemed to be in good spirits. Mont grinned into the kiss, shamelessly grabbing her ass as he did so. She let out a squeal and an uncharacteristic giggle. 

Her eyes met his and they shared a smile at for a moment before realizing the time and separating to finish preparing for the school day— their first school day in a while. It had been an eventful week for both of them, Éponine especially, and they were ready to get on with life. Éponine didn't exactly like to dwell and Mont tended to like whatever Éponine liked, or at least he pretended to, being the smart guy he was. 

\-------

As expected, first period math was a snooze fest, although Marius continued to be a source of entertainment for Éponine. His behavior towards her could be described only as unadulterated awkwardness. He could sense that he knew way more about her home life than she ever wanted anyone to. He could understand that. Marius himself didn't exactly have it easy. Although, for a while now he'd been able to spend a majority of his time at Cosette's place, which really took a load off the kid. 

Éponine knew exactly how uncomfortable she made him and she absolutely fucking loved it.

"Pontmercy, how've you been?" She asked with a sickeningly sweet smile. Mont was, not surprisingly, watching her from across the room and she wanted to give him a good laugh. She turned to Montparnasse for a split second, smirking with self-satisfaction. 

"Um. Good?" He answered awkwardly, attempting a sincere smile but instead looking somewhat like a hostage or an unfortunate Christmas card photo (which he had his fair share of). "H-how are you, Éponine? Really, how are you? How are things?" 

"I cry myself to sleep every night. I'm dying inside." Éponine answered, completely deadpan. Man, she cracked herself up. Mont was amused as well, she could hear his chuckles from across the room and feel his concentrated stare on her. 

Before Marius could muster a response, class began. Fauchelevent looked tired. Éponine, already bored out of her mind, let out an audible laugh as she noticed a hickey just above his collarbone. She glanced quickly at Cosette, wondering if she had caught sight of the mark. It was quite clear she had. Cosette's doll-like face was tomato red. Courfeyrac noticed, and tried to keep his laughter to himself but ended up practically wheezing. 

"Would you care to share with the class what is so funny?" Fauchlevent demanded, completely oblivious to the cause of the class's collective laughter. Every second, it seemed, another student caught on and within a minute, the class had dissolved into fits of laughter. 

"Okay, somebody has to tell me what you're all laughing about. Is my tie crooked?" Fauchlevent furrowed his eyebrows, looking around the classroom, completely lost. 

Mont nodded at Éponine. "Tell him," he mouthed at her between laughs. There was a time when Mont absolutely lived for Éponine's classroom antics. She hadn't mustered up the energy to pull anything recently, but he missed that side of her. 

She grinned in response. 

"Seriously! We have work to do. If you're going to sit around and laugh like fools, you might as well tell me what is so funny so that I can—"

"It's just that next time you get sexy with Cosette's mom on a school night, you should probably invest in a turtle neck." Éponine blurted out loudly, inciting even more laughter. Marius, who had not caught on yet, widened his eyes as he realized the source of the chaos. Even he gave a little chuckle.

Fauchelevent stood in silence for a moment, eyeing the class insecurely. 

"Take out your homework." He stated, trying to ignore the bright shade of red he was turning. Cosette gave him a pained look and signed out a hall pass, which, of course, produced more laughter. Fauchlevent would never live this one down. 

It shouldn't really have meant anything, but Mont couldn't stop smiling for a different reason. It was almost as if Éponine was coming back to him. Éponine was never bright and cheery, but recent events had made her gloomier than usual and this was progress. It seemed as if she could sense his excitement, because she threw a genuine smile his way. 

\---------------

The familiar sound of Éponine and Montparnasse being called down to the office rang throughout the school after first period. They both laughed, joining hands as they made their way down to face the wrath of Principal Javert. Éponine was sure her lecture would have something to do with her inappropriate comments in first period but Mont wasn't quite sure exactly what he'd done. He'd only been in school for a total of an hour in the past week or so. At this point, the walk down to the office was beyond joyous for him. It felt like old times. It really did. 

"How I've missed old man Javert!" Mont remarked sarcastically, running a hand through his carefully gelled hair. 

"Ah, if it isn't the dynamic duo making their triumphant return to my office. Just when I thought that I was rid of you and you had finally run off to pursue your inevitable careers in retail." Javert spat. Though his words seemed like an attempt at a joke, they both knew that he would get pissy if they laughed so they kept their mouths shut despite how hilarious his zeal was. 

"Always a pleasure, sir." Mont nodded, his words dripping with irony. Old Javert was, however, never too sharp at catching such things.

"A pleasure." Éponine echoed with even more sarcasm. 

"When I require you to join an extracurricular, that does not mean attend five rehearsals and then disappear for the better part of a month. Montparnasse, you've been recast. You are no longer in the play. You did not follow my instructions properly." 

"Fuck. I'm not?" This was news to Mont. Musichetta didn't know that he had already learned the part on his own. Every spare second he had, he'd run his lines and songs. He was not fucking recast. No way. 

"I'm sorry, what?" Éponine said incredulously. This was her fault. 

Javert reclined in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. He would let them hash this out before continuing. Really, these two were beyond tiring.

"That's what you get for cutting class. Don't act as if this comes as a surprise." Javert squinted his eyes at Montparnasse, leaning forward slightly.

"I don't skip class just for the hell of it." Mont protested, anger boiling up inside of him. Éponine widened her eyes, sensing that his temper was about to get the best of him. She almost felt a little guilty for putting him in this position, but mostly she was amused. 

"Oh? And what pressing matters do you have to attend to?" Javert said in the most condescending tone possible. 

Mont growled audibly and Éponine stifled a laugh. Montparnasse turned to Éponine with an infuriated expression. She put an end to the laughing. 

"You don't know what the fuck I have to attend to!" Mont fumed, balling up his fists. 

Éponine's eyes were downcast. She didn't see this side of him too often. For the most part, he never resorted to this mood around her. It made her realized how he was truly a different person with her. 

"Young man—" Javert warned, his expression beginning to shift from mild annoyance into full-on anger. 

"Fuck you," Mont growled, "Fuck you, thinking you know what I have going on. You're a stuck up asshole. You're a piece of shit and you have no fucking idea." 

Javert stood abruptly, taking Montparnasse by the arm. Honestly, Javert wasn't really sure where he was taking the kid but it seemed like time to take things to the next level, punishment-wise. 

Montparnasse wiggled out of his grip easily. The two men were facing each other in the middle of Javert's office with Éponine standing behind Mont, eagerly watching the altercation unfold before her eyes. 

Without another word, Mont delivered a fist right to the principal's face, much to Éponine's shock. And Javert hid the ground with a thud. Mont had learned long ago how to pack an effective punch.

"What the fuck?" Éponine hissed, swatting at Mont's arm, "you punched the fucking principal."

"Jesus, Ép, I was defending your honor." Mont rolled his eyes, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the office. "What's he gonna do about it? Suspend me? Like I give a shit." 

"You're really hot right now." Éponine chuckled, opting to side with Mont. 

"Honestly, what's the worst he can do? He thinks he's got all this power but his supposed power stops at those doors." Mont shrugged, squeezing her tiny hand tight. 

"What's the worst he could do? Charge you with assault. You know the police fucking hate you. You've managed to stay off their radar for a while but they hate kids like us. They'll take it way overboard if it gets to them." 

Mont shrugged again. "It doesn't really matter. You're all that matters to me."

Éponine turned to him with a grin. "You mean that?"

"Of course I do. That's what being in love's all about."

"Well, I guess I would know." She replied, still grinning her crooked grin. "I'm a lucky girl, aren't I?"

"You're not half as lucky as I am."

Laying on the compliments seemed like a good idea to him at the moment. She was fragile and in need of validation— and besides, he truly meant every word. Even if it was beyond cheesy.

Time seemed to freeze as Éponine caught a glance of her little sister scurrying down the hallway. Of course she'd be there. It wasn't at all like Azelma to miss school, even if she was knocked up. Mont's grip on Éponine's hand tightened as he too spotted the younger Thénardier sister.

In spite of herself, Éponine approached Azelma slowly, with Mont as moral support.

"Hi." Ép stopped in the middle of the hallway, paying no mind to the roadblock she was causing and the students rolling their eyes at her and pushing past.

Azelma looked up fearfully, as if Éponine would throw a punch at any moment— though today, Éponine clearly wasn't the one throwing punches.

"What, you can't talk to me anymore?" Éponine asked coldly, now feeling embarrassed for trying to reach out and being rejected by someone who had idolized her for sixteen years.

"Are you taking care of yourself?" Mont asked quietly, placing a gentle hand on Azelma's shoulder. She had become something of a little sister to him, too.

"Does Dad know?" Éponine pressed, interjecting before Azelma could reply to Mont's concern, her expression intense.

Azelma shook her head. "Should I tell him?"

"That depends. Do you want to get rid of the baby?" Éponine asked in an intense whisper, leading Azelma to a bench so that they could extend the conversation. Although it was a blow to Éponine's pride to continue reaching out to her sister after the nasty words that had been said the night before, this felt urgent. Éponine felt connected to this. She needed to know what was happening with Thénardier's second potential grandchild.

Azelma's expression was blank and exhausted. She couldn't stand to ponder it anymore. She'd stayed up the past few nights weighing her options and had not come to any sort of conclusion.

"I don't know." Azelma muttered, tugging on her hair— a nervous tic which Éponine recognized.

"Jesus, Azelma. Grow up," Éponine groaned, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly, "this is a baby we're talking about. It's a life or death decision. Don't be an indecisive idiot like you always are."

"Éponine!" Mont hissed, giving her a 'cut it out' look.

"No, you're right. But you know, I meant what I said last night. This doesn't concern you anymore." Azelma delivered the words delicately, but it didn't soften the blow. Azelma didn't want Éponine to be involved, but for once, Éponine desperately wanted to be involved.

Before Éponine could protest, Azelma stood up and quickly proceeded down the hallway without looking back.

"Well, she's a miserable sight." Mont remarked, standing from the bench and extending a hand to Éponine.

"Fucking pathetic is what she is." Éponine muttered darkly as she stood. 

"Wanna go outside for a smoke and to also run from the fact that I just punched the fucking principal?" Mont asked, overcome by laughter. He couldn't believe he punched the principal. Again, it seemed as if their old dynamic was returning. Things weren't quite so dreary and repetitive. They both found themselves laughing genuinely. 

"That's probably a good idea on both counts." Éponine smirked, wrapping her arms around him and walking with her head against his chest. Out of the corner of her eye, Éponine saw Cosette making her way down the hallway, hands intertwined with Marius'. Éponine smiled. She felt pretty damn content where she was— in Mont's embrace. It struck her how much things had changed in such a short time. Only a month before, she would have spotted Marius and Cosette and thrown a fit at Mont's expense.

"I love you." Éponine sighed. 

Mont grinned at her, kissing her forehead gently. He wasn't going to take her rare good mood for granted. She was rarely so genial. "I love you more." 

"You punched out fucking Javert." Éponine stated once more, chuckling at the absurdity. 

"Fuck. I know. What am I going to do?" Mont raised his eyebrows, beginning to acquire some genuine concern. Shit. He couldn't really afford to get in huge trouble, not with his record. The pair found a bench to sit on.

"It's not your fault. He was being an asshole. Tell that to the police." Éponine shrugged, lightning a cigarette and leaning into him. 

"Do you actually think they're going to involve the police? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I gonna say, 'he was being an asshole so I punched his lights out'?"

"Something like that." 

"Ép, I'm serious. I'm seriously a fucking idiot." 

"Hey, hey! What happened to the 'you're all that matters' nonsense? I liked that." Éponine whined, purposefully blowing a puff of smoke into his face. 

"Éponine, please. I got myself into some shit here and you making jokes is really not helping." Mont threw his head back dramatically, finally realizing the depth of the trouble his idiotic temper tantrum could cause him. 

"I'm not joking," Éponine scoffed, removing herself from his embrace, "you told me you meant that. You said that I was all that matters to you. So am I or aren't I?" 

Mont threw her an exasperated look. "Let it go. Please." 

"Get over yourself." Éponine spat, throwing her cigarette down and mashing it into the ground vigorously. "Quit acting like it's my fault you fucked up." 

And with that, she was off. So much for the good mood. And so much for Mont's altercation with Javert being funny. It suddenly wasn't so funny anymore, now that he gave it some thought. Oh, shit. Éponine's cavalier attitude wasn't exactly helping. After all, he only lost his temper because he'd been so tightly wound. And he was only tightly wound because of Éponine and her the drama that seemed to follow her everywhere she went lately. 

Being mad at Éponine was weird. Montparnasse didn't particularly like it.

\------------

Just to be safe, Éponine walked by the office with stealth. What if those fuckers were on the lookout for Mont? They'd snatch her right away. 

"What's the hurry, kid?" Asked a familiar, slightly grating voice behind her. Grantaire.

"Nothing. No hurry." Éponine breathed, glancing behind her before deciding it was safe to settle into a normal pace. Fuck Mont. Now he had her all paranoid about getting in trouble when, firstly, it wasn't even her problem and secondly, they had both been in far deeper shit. 

"Are you on the lamb or something?" Grantaire asked, letting the joke hang in the air for a second before adding, "wait, don't answer that. I wouldn't be shocked if you were. And if you are, I don't want to know." 

"Montparnasse punched Javert in the face. Knocked him out cold." Éponine delivered the story with a completely blank expression, trying to squirm her way out of the conversation because the last experience she had with Grantaire hadn't been so pleasant, if she remembered correctly.

"No shit. I respect that." Grantaire nodded, motoring to keep up with her. Oh, great. He was pity-talking to her. She recognized pity conversations from a mile away. She'd been on the receiving end far too many times for her taste. 

"So, you're talking to me why?" Éponine asked bluntly, turning around to face Grantaire with a raised eyebrow.

"Jesus. Touchy."

"Not really. I'm just saying you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to." Éponine muttered. 

"Oh, come on. Don't get weird on me. Got anything important to do this period?"

"Eh, doubtful." 

"Let's hang. Come on."


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some shit goes down, as per usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize this story has turned completely into a Montponine shit show. My sincerest apologies.

After finishing his antsy smoke break, Montparnasse ambled back into the school, attempting to keep what remains of cool he had left in him. His girlfriend stormed out on him, he was about to face a shit load of trouble and both things were completely his own fault. Upon his entrance, Mont let out an exaggerated groan. Éponine's presence was nowhere near, he deducted after glancing around at his immediate surroundings. Fortunately, nobody else came into his line of sight either. After all, class had started. Classroom doors were closed and the hallways were empty. Debating whether or not to attend his third period class, Mont opted to skip it. After all, what was the point in trying to maintain a favorable record anymore? After his temper got the best of him like that, he could only expect the worst. And of course he'd chased off Éponine, leaving him to face it alone. In short: Montparnasse really fucked himself. The slightly elevated record he'd worked so hard to keep up was tarnished. Any slim chance he had at creating a livable future for himself and Éponine seemed to have vanished completely. Mont continued down the hallways aimlessly as he tortured himself with these thoughts. 

Not surprisingly, Éponine needed an out from class and found herself wandering the halls, as well. Her thoughts weren't as wildly strewn about as Mont's, but she was by no means clear-headed. Her sister's affliction, and her own traumatic past, continued to haunt her all day. Montparnasse was acting like a complete asshole, and her own sister refused to hold a conversation with her. Éponine felt alone. It felt as though wounds that had seemed to close years ago were bursting open again and hurting like hell. And Mont wasn't doing anything about it. As much as she found herself complaining about his delicate treatment of her, Éponine missed Mont's pampering now that he'd withdrawn it for the time being to deal with his own shit.

As was inevitable, the pair encountered each other briefly. While Mont's mouth hung open, almost as if he was itching to speak but couldn't find the right words, Éponine averted her eyes and brushed past him briskly. He let out a noise that vaguely resembled a word but she ignored it in favor of ducking into the nearest bathroom to avoid him. 

Before Mont could decide either for or against following her into the bathroom, he felt a bold tap on his shoulder. Oh, shit.

Behind Montparnasse stood the man himself. Javert's face was dominated by a ghastly bruise; clearly icing it hadn't exactly done wonders. Mont winced. 

"Follow me. Now." Javert demanded, coming off as quite authoritative, for once. Mont followed semi-obediently and was lead into the same seat he had occupied pre-punch. 

"This—" Here, Javert motioned calmly to his banged-up face, "is beyond unacceptable." 

"I'm sorry." Mont muttered insincerely, hoping to spare himself from the worst of punishments.

"In many cases, this kind of offense would result in suspension." Javert stated.

Mont let out a sigh of relief. Was that all? He could deal with a suspension. Easy. "Yes, sir."

"Not so fast," Javert shifted in his seat, "your case isn't many cases, Montparnasse. You're a known problem child." 

"I don't think that's exactly fair—"

"Don't you?" Javert gestured to his face matter-of-factly. Mont resigned. 

"In your case, I think there's a threat to this school as a whole, to society. You're a walking liability, young man. For that reason—"

"You're pressing charges." 

"Precisely. Now, get out of my office before you have the chance to assault me again. Go home."

\---------------

Instead of driving home as instructed, Mont sat in his car for what seemed like forever. Leaving Éponine without a ride didn't seem like a viable option at the moment— he'd done his fair share of pissing her off for one day. 

While Mont froze in the snow-covered car, Éponine, surprisingly enough, lasted the school day. Of course, she did so due to the obvious, necessary provisions. Despite the current shape of the show, rehearsal was not held after school for whatever reason. To Mont's shock, Éponine was not alone when she appeared in the parking lot. Her arm was linked with the arm of some kid Mont hadn't talked to or cared to talk to. The kid's head was topped with a mop of wildly curly, black hair and his face was framed with messy stubble. Mont noted that he looked friendly enough, but based on the way he walked with Mont's girl, he wasn't a fan. 

"They're both looking." Éponine whispered to Grantaire, pointedly running a hand across his back as she did so. Of course Mont was watching, and of course she knew it. Éponine wasn't all too thrilled with the way Mont dismissed her earlier, and she fully intended on making him realize how easily she could ditch him. 

The long, sloppy kiss she shared with Grantaire caused Mont's jaw to drop open. To Grantaire's pleasure, Enjolras watched from his car with a raised eyebrow. 

"Would you look at that?" Combeferre remarked from the passenger seat. "I never would have pegged those two as each other's types."

"They aren't." Enjolras snapped, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before his eyes. "That wasn't convincing in the least. Grantaire just wiped his lips on his sleeve. This is ridiculous. He's only trying to rattle me."

"Is he succeeding?" Combeferre asked with a knowing smirk. Enjolras whacked him with a half-empty water bottle sitting in the cup holder. 

"What? Enj, I'm just saying that if you really found him so repulsive, you would ignore him altogether. But you indulge him and his antics." 

"That's quite enough from you." Enj huffed, driving away before he was tempted to watch any longer.

He was indeed succeeding. 

"Enj is jealous as hell. You drove the asshole away. Literally. And I don't even have to look to know that Mont's absolutely fucking enraged." Éponine chuckled, grabbing his ass once more for good measure before ambling over to Mont's car non-chalantly. 

"What the fuck was that?" Montparnasse seethed as soon as the car door opened and his unfaithful girlfriend plopped down in the passenger seat, seemingly without a care in the whole wide world. 

"What's it to you?" Éponine asked with an exaggerated pout, propping her feet up on the dashboard.

"You're a brat." Mont huffed, making a concentrated effort to ignore her scrutinizing gaze. 

"And you're an asshole. You treated me like shit earlier, you know that? Maybe I didn't like being treated like a fucking burden on you." Éponine crossed her arms over her chest. 

"You are such a fucking bitch." Mont's face was red. His temper, which usually stayed in check around his girlfriend, was starting to get the best of him. Today— not his day. 

"Ouch!" She feigned hurt in the most obnoxious way possible. 

"You smell like weed. It's disgusting." Mont stated coldly, eyes focused solely on the road. 

"Would you rather I shoot up heroin? If that's more pleasant for you scent-wise, then by all means I can—" Éponine smirked, thinking herself pretty hilarious. 

"Fuck you!" Mont bellowed, stopping short in his fit of anger. A vein on his forehead seemed about ready to pop. "That's not funny. I can't fucking stand you right now!" 

Silence ensued for at least a few awkward minutes before Mont spoke up.

"Who is that ugly creep anyway?" He asked softly, almost in a growl. 

"Grantaire. You know, things aren't looking so good for us, and as far as I know, Grantaire doesn't have a criminal record, so—" 

"He's an ugly sack of shit. Get a grip." Mont pulled into the parking lot and hopped out of the car, walking quickly to avoid her, although he would have to face her considering they lived together. 

"He wouldn't treat me like an ugly sack of shit, though. You do." Éponine muttered, scurrying to catch up with him. Éponine wasn't one to relinquish the victory of having the last word in any argument. 

"Like he'd treat you so well, Ép? Please. Don't flatter yourself. I'm the only person around who gives a flying fuck about you. Even your wimpy little sister told you to fuck off and I am starting to see why." Mont spat, without looking back to catch a glimpse of her. 

"As if you're in high demand?" Éponine scoffed, kicking at his heels in a childish attempt to antagonize him. 

"Cut that out." 

She didn't. As they mounted the stairs and entered the building, she continued to physically antagonize him as they made their way through the hallway. 

Fed up, he snatched her arm up roughly and pinned her against the wall in a burst of warranted anger. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes with a semblance of fear, jaw slightly ajar. He made a fist and it lingered in the air for a moment but didn't move beyond that point, frozen.

He held her arm there for a few moments, breathing heavily and making intense eye contact with her, almost as if deciding what he would do with her. Before his temper could yet again lead him down an unfavorable path, he let go and stormed away, leaving Éponine to sink to the ground and sit against the wall outside the apartment, placing her head in her hands defeatedly.

It felt almost like a betrayal, him laying a hand on her like that. Without wanting to give the matter any importance, Éponine couldn't help but notice her insides feeling utterly sour. Her first thought was to seek comfort in the arms of her boyfriend, but he wasn't going to win like that, especially after he caused her this volume of pain and betrayal. Instead she opted to sit, motionless, in the hallway for a bit longer until he initiated a conversation. 

Almost twenty minutes later, he thrust the door open and leaned in the doorway expectantly. His expression was troubled still, but softer than before. 

"Come in." He requested with a touch of gentleness. He extended a hand, but extracted it with a thoroughly hurt expression as Éponine flinched away from it. 

"Don't touch me." She hissed, standing as if on her own accord. She brushed by him to enter the apartment and he carefully closed the door behind them. 

"Can we talk?" Mont asked, tilting his head to the side impatiently. He could tell she was going to be difficult, as usual. 

"So that you can keep calling me a 'fucking bitch'? Maybe throw a punch or two? I'll pass." Éponine sneered, voice thickening with emotion. At the slightest indication that she might crack, she exited the conversation. 

Mont placed a somehow gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder. 

"What the hell do you want from me?" Éponine threw her head back, shrugging her shoulder a away from his grip. "I already said don't touch me, Montparnasse." 

Mont remained silent for a moment. Éponine's trust had taken years to gain, and one flash of anger shattered it completely. She didn't look at him the same as she had only hours before. The way she flinched away from his touch caused his stomach to sink. He was the biggest fucking idiot for losing his temper violently towards a girl who'd been abused for years. Idiot.

"I'm sorry." Mont choked on his words, unable to conjure up anything else to say at that moment.

"I'm sorry, too. Sorry that I was idiotic enough to let myself fall in love with you when I must've known deep down that a friend of my dad's is a just fucking friend of my dad's. My deadbeat dad's a better judge of character than I am, apparently." Éponine let a couple of tears fall before swatting at her face angrily.

Mont longed to reach out and embrace her, but touching her was out of the picture now. He could only stand in stunned, heartbreaking silence.

"Éponine, I'm begging you. Hear me out, please." He said finally, eyebrows furrowing worriedly as she stood, weighing her options. She gave a slight nod.

"I lost my temper. Javert told me he's pressing charges, I got kicked out of the school and waited for you in my freezing car all day so that you wouldn't have to catch a ride with some creep and then I have to watch you make out with one just to get back at me for ignoring you." Of course, Mont still harbored some anger about her questionable actions earlier in the day, but as per usual, she now had all the leverage in the situation.

"Javert's pressing charges?" She asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. Her stance became slightly less guarded.

"Yeah. Says he'd let most kids get off with a suspension but I'm a threat to society."

"It can't be more than a simple assault charge. There was no deadly weapon, right?" Éponine's eyes widened as she thought out loud.

"You've read up on this, huh?" Mont gave a half-assed smirk.

"So what if I have?" Éponine snapped, clearly not ready to joke around yet. Mont noted that.

"You're right. But I mean..."

"You never get caught."

"I never get caught. This sucks balls." Mont groaned, nearly forgetting about his current sucky situation, the one that stood right in front of him and looked progressively displeased as the silence dragged on for a minute.

"Yeah. Back to you nearly punching my lights out in addition to Javert's." Éponine pursed her lips, subconsciously returning to a guarded position,

"I wasn't going to punch your lights out, Éponine. I would never punch your lights out. I didn't actually punch you, I mean it—"

"Yeah. You didn't. But you pinned me against the wall like a fucking ragdoll. That's straight out of Old Man Thénardier's playbook. But really, how good of you to not actually punch me. You're my fuckin' hero." Éponine's sarcastic words were so biting it felt as if they pierced his skin.

"You stabbed me." Mont muttered in defense, not really sure what else he could possibly say to her.

"Sure, bring up the one time my sick, psychotic head told me to hurt you instead of myself. Because that's the same fucking thing as you consciously treating me like a punching bag because you had a bad day at school. But I mean, if you want leverage that badly, I wouldn't object to stabbing you again right now, perhaps in the heart this time?" Éponine's fists clenched and her head shook vehemently as she spoke.

Both frustrated and unable to fathom what exactly she wanted to hear from him, Mont retreated to the bedroom without another word and locked the door.

Now that no witnesses were present, Éponine finally broke into sobs, first falling to her knees and then curling up on the ground and cradling herself as the cries made her entire body quake. While her body ached with everything that was wrong, her mind was racing.

Mont, on the other hand, suddenly remembered the excess supply of OxyContin from his stabbing-related hospital visit and suddenly, as his world seemed to be crumbling before him, an old vice seemed to appear to him as the crystal-clear answer to his misery.

\----------------

After three failed attempts, Éponine determined that Azelma was not going to pick up her cell phone. Much like her estranged boyfriend, Éponine felt she'd lost everything. The two people who seemed as if they'd worship her forever suddenly threw her out in the cold, and contacting Cosette only struck her with the thought that she could've ended up with someone who didn't hang around with her father and, inevitably, act a bit like him. Marius would never even consider hitting his girlfriend. Hell, he would probably be engulfed with guilt for raising his voice. After her tear ducts seemed to have been cried dry, Éponine slowly rose from the floor, brushing herself off.

Fucking pathetic. How long had she been weeping on the floor like a five year old who didn't get their way? As she walked around the apartment, strong drink in hand, it became apparent that Mont was still locked in the bedroom.

"Okay, lock me out. Real fucking mature!" She fumed, giving the door a solid kick before scuffling away from the door defeatedly. Where had she to go? This had just started to feel like home and she no longer felt safe here. Before she could make up her mind in any direction, the door unlocked and out came Montparnasse.

"Don't say anything," Éponine stated flatly. "I'm leaving. Get out of the way so that I can get my things."

"Babe." Mont cooed, sidling up behind Éponine and kissing her neck repeatedly as she breathed heavily. She turned her head slowly, expression unreadable. After lingering in the air a moment, she pressed her lips to his, only breaking off for a moment to take a considerable swig from her bottle, and then grabbing his shirt tightly and leading it into the bedroom, kissing forcefully all along the way.

If Mont were sober, he would have known better than this. He would have known that Éponine knew sex only as something that would save her a beating. He would have taken her gently by the shoulders and started a conversation. But instead, he was unstable. He was unstable, unsteady and slowly falling apart. And he was taking her with him. As much as she was truly stronger than this, survival mode had been set off somewhere within her. For the first time since Mont fell in love with Éponine, survival mode was probably a good idea.

As the intoxicated pair quickly, aggressively undressed each other, Éponine fell into her usual default mode when entertaining her father's company. She laid there, motionless, expressionless, allowing Mont to have his way with her. It didn't even occur to her how off he was acting, how out of character this all was. Instead, she preferred not to think. She closed her eyes, desperately grasping for something else to think about, a distraction.

After Mont nodded off, Éponine could not bring herself to fall asleep. She continued to lie awake, staring at the ceiling. Her disgust towards herself made her stomach turn and tears accumulate in her eyes. What was going on?

As Mont woke up the next morning, Éponine nearly jumped out of her skin. She had pulled an all-nighter, thinking everything and nothing at the same time. In short, she was now very familiar with the ceiling in that bedroom. 

Leaving had been the most prevalent option in her mind twelves hours earlier, but now she felt almost frozen. The pondering which robbed her of any sleep at all left her confident that nobody else would take her in. And plus, maybe she should hear Mont out. Of course he still loved her. Of course he did. Right? 

"Hey," Mont grumbled, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. His head pounded and his stomach turned. Holy shit. He hadn't, had he? Eyeing the conspicuous pill bottle on the bedside table, he realized that he indeed had. It was shocking to him that Éponine wasn't currently flipping out on him. It was hard to tell whether or not that was a pleasant surprise. She seemed oddly calm, catatonic even. Her response to his greeting was complete silence. He'd almost forgotten where they had left off the night before. While their nakedness and the underwear strewn on the floor refreshed his memory the slightest bit, there was a foreboding feeling in his stomach too.

"Éponine, are we good?" Mont asked with a sigh, sitting up slowly and cradling his aching head in his hands. 

"Fine." Éponine replied flatly, eyes remaining glued to the ceiling. Mont leaned over, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a little shake. She breathed in sharply. 

"Did we...?" 

"Yeah. Why? I'm usually the one with the foggy memories of the night before. Wait. Were you...sleeping something off?" Her eyebrows furrowed, in confusion more than concern. 

"No, of course not. Nothing like that. I think I'm sick." Mont shrugged, slowly rising from the bed with a hand still pressed to his throbbing forehead. Éponine rose and walked past him, trudging into the kitchen to do the good girlfriend thing to do and fetch him a glass of water. 

"You're in a good mood," Mont noted, taking the glass with a pained smile.

"I don't know. Azelma turning on me is seeming more and more like a wake-up call. Like a 'stop being an asshole to your loved ones' type of thing. You know what, it's stupid. Just drink your stupid water." Éponine fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke, almost completely avoiding eye contact. 

"I've been a bit of an asshole myself," Mont said with a wince, taking a hearty sip from the glass and heading towards the bathroom to root around for some ibuprofen. 

Éponine followed. "I provoked it." 

Mont crossed his arms and glanced at his girlfriend thoughtfully. "This is a change of heart. What happened to my beloved stubborn bitch?" 

"She nearly got punched in the face by her boyfriend, for one thing." Éponine muttered under her breath. It was not her intention for him to hear that. His troubled expression indicated that he, indeed, heard it. 

"Look, I'm really so—" Mont began, running a hand through his slightly unkempt hair. 

"I don't want to talk about that." Éponine cut him off effectively. She sauntered over to where he stood and kissed his cheek sweetly. Now in a sobered state, Mont furrowed his eyebrows at the uncharacteristically apologetic affection. She was resorting to survival mode. It made him sick— well, sicker — to realize what he had done to their relationship with his stupid fucking temper. 

\-------------------

The walk towards the truck seemed far too long, and was shrouded in awkward silence until a figure emerged from a parked squad car. Shit. 

"Luc Montparnasse, I have a warrant for your arrest. You're being charged with simple assault." 

"I swear to God, Mont, we just fucking finished our stupid community service hours..."

Without uttering a word, Mont followed the cop obediently, leaving Éponine alone in the parking lot, sputtering. 

"There goes my fucking ride to school," She muttered sourly. 

Éponine seriously considered hopping back into bed and ditching school completely, but the thought of her sister's presence at school drove her to start the trek to school. Fucking Azelma. 

She walked slowly, taking in her surroundings as if they were new. It was odd how she kept having to tell herself 'I'm not afraid of Montparnasse. I'm not afraid of anything. I'm Éponine fucking Thénardier', and how she couldn't believe it even for a second. Even in her current state of sufficiently buzzed, her thoughts raced. She needed a distraction from reality, but reality was repeatedly kicking her ass. 

With about forty minutes to go on her walk, Éponine started to speed up. If she got to first period, she'd be able to catch Azelma between classes and try to get a word in. Suddenly, a car horn blared behind her, causing her to shoot up the middle finger. 

Said car rolled up beside her and came to a halt. With a less then amused expression, Éponine turned to the loud car with her hands on her hips, only to see Courfeyrac behind the wheel. 

"Get in." Courf practically demanded, rolling his eyes at the very sight of her and yet doing her a favor. Hey, she wasn't going to complain about a free ride. 

"Where's your boyfriend?" Courf asked, looking forward at the road intently. Ever since he'd heard about the shit the poor girl was going through, he had promised himself (and his father, for that matter) that he would be more sensitive and reach out when possible. He really was a nice guy, always friendly and warm, but something about this particular peer of his had always pissed him off. 

"None of your business," Éponine stated flatly, picking idly at the scars on her wrist. 

"You're in my car, after all. It's kind of my business." 

"Like I'm so lucky to be cruising in this shit wagon," Éponine scoffed, feeding off of the intense dislike she felt practically radiating towards her. 

"Watch your mouth, princess." Courf bit back a chuckle in favor of acting like a complete asshole. Opening the door for her to become his friend was the last thing he wanted to do. He decided that he did not need that kind of crazy in his life. As far as he knew, this girl was straight psycho based on his former encounters.

"If you hate me so much, why'd you even stop?" Éponine bit out, crossing her arms severely with a petulant scowl. 

"You make me feel like a mean guy. I don't want to be a mean guy, but you are uniquely frustrating." 

"Thanks. I get that a lot." Éponine's lips broke into the smallest sliver of a smile.

"Doesn't it bother you that you're a social pariah?" Courf asked, raising an eyebrow at the idea of an actual civilized conversation with Éponine Thénardier. 

"Does it bother you that your life revolves around high school theatre?" Éponine asked with a satisfied smirk. Maybe he wasn't so bad. She didn't mind having someone she could spar with. Not at all. Then again, this kid was an asshole to her. She wiped the smirk off of her face.

"Not in the least. Unlike you, I take pleasure in activities that don't involve jail time and crack dens." 

"I don't get why Marius is friends with you."

"Marius and I have been bros since...forever. You're just jealous because I get to see his cute ass every single day." 

"Shove it. I'm so far past over Marius. Try to keep up. I'm dating Montparnasse." 

"Sounds lovely. You deserve each other," Courf sneered, relieved to be pulling into the school parking lot. 

"Thanks for the ride, asshole," Éponine hopped out of the car as quickly as possible.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not going well for Éponine...

As Éponine dragged herself through the dull hallways, keeping an eye out for her sister but mostly keeping to herself, she bit her lip thoughtfully. Not having fully processed her boyfriend's arrest yet, she furrowed her eyebrows. In most cases, a simple assault charge wouldn't end in jail time, but somehow she knew— and she figured Mont knew— that his criminal record indicated otherwise for him. His numerous charges of theft and drug possession from years past would bite him right in the ass. As for the jarring events of the night before, Éponine had all but forgotten them in light of Mont's new predicament. While her mind overflowed with concern for Montparnasse, she stopped for a moment to laugh to herself about the almost friendly encounter with Courfeyrac. Who would've guessed? 

Before she could delve deeper into her thoughts—which was never a good idea on her part, her sister scurried past with her head down, crossing her bony arms over her stomach severely. 

Éponine grabbed her by the arm roughly and sped up so that they were walking side by side. "Azelma. Talk to me, okay? This is pathetic, me having to beg you like this. Take me out of my misery. Come back to the apartment with me." 

"You're asking me to leave the father of my child. I can't do that, Éponine, and besides, I love him." Azelma averted her eyes from Éponine as she picked up the pace, hoping to tire out her sister before the unwanted conversation could continue.

"Give me a break," Éponine groaned, her face contorting into a nasty grimace. "He's a pervert, a creeper. And if you think he loves you back, you're batshit crazy. He pulled the same shit on me when I lived with Dad. You're not special." 

Azelma pursed her lips and shot a pained look at Éponine. "You don't love me. Why do you give an inch?" 

Éponine was at a slight loss for words. She was not desperate enough to profess her love to her sister. "Azelma. It's not just you I'm thinking about, it's your baby, too." 

"You don't strike me as a baby person." Azelma shrugged, continuing to avoid eye contact. 

"Well, surprise. I'm a fucking baby person." Éponine rolled her eyes, grasping Azelma's arm tightly so as not to let her stray. She pulled Azelma into a vacant back hallway and forced her to sit. 

"Babet says I shouldn't keep it. He says Dad won't like it, he'll mess me up so bad I won't be so cute anymore, he says." Azelma muttered, her head down on her knees.

"He's an idiot. They both are. Me and Mont, though, we'll help you." 

"You didn't answer my question." 

"Jesus, Azelma. What question?" 

"Why do you care?" Azelma's eyes widened as she finally looked her big sister in the eye. 

Éponine sighed, but said nothing.

"Éponine. Why?" 

"Can't I be nice to you without being interrogated?" Éponine tilted her head with an air of irritation, though a slight edge of relief was present in her expression. She knew Azelma was about to cave. 

"Based on our past encounters, not really. Éponine, I told you all of this. I told you how I feel about us." Azelma frowned, picking absently at a scar on her hand. Éponine's sudden kindness and compassion confused her. Azelma had never known her sister to be kind or helpful— only reckless and tough. 

"I—I want to change all that. I'll be your sister, whatever that means." Éponine attempted a warm smile, but the expression didn't quite suit her face. She'd work on that, she decided. 

Azelma tried to keep the quick, excited fluttering of her heart under control and stifled a grin. For years, she had wished for this. It was too good to be true, however. "It's just— it's a very sudden change of heart." Azelma spoke delicately, as if afraid of making Éponine change her mind yet again.

Éponine pursed her lips in silence for a moment, unsure of what excuse to give. She was far from ready to tell anyone about her own pregnancy experience— only her parents and Babet ever knew— but she was having an uncharacteristically hard time concocting a convincing lie.

"Be honest," Azelma promoted gently.

"I'm lonely," Éponine blurted out all of a sudden, surprising herself a bit. "I don't know when Mont is coming back, and even with him around...I need a female figure in my life, you know?"

"It seems like you're awfully close with Cosette," Azelma shrugged, more than slightly passive aggressive.

"She's nice, but she'll never understand what I've been through like you do." Éponine feigned thoughtfulness as she spoke, even taking her sister's hand in her own for good measure. If Thénardier had taught his daughter anything, it was how to lie for personal gain. He was certainly the expert.

Azelma finally allowed herself to flash her sister a genuinely thrilled smile. Deciding not to push her luck, Azelma refrained from pulling her older sister into a big hug. Even lonely-Éponine wasn't the hugging type, Azelma decided internally.

\--------------

"It's interesting to see you without Cosette by your side," Courf remarked bitterly as Marius made his way to first period math beside him. Lately, Courf had been feeling beyond neglected by his best buddy. It seemed that Marius spent every waking moment with Cosette, on the phone with Cosette, texting Cosette, or talking endlessly about Cosette. Needless to say, Courf was a bit tired of all the Cosette, though he did think she was a lovely girl. She certainly wasn't the one initiating the endless contact however— that was all Marius.

Marius nodded dazedly. "Mm. She's going to be late. On the way to school, her mother heard that Montparnasse got arrested and so they went back home to pick up Éponine. They're probably on their way back now."

"Dude. I drove Éponine to school." Courf chuckled at the misunderstanding, though he couldn't help but notice how the subject of conversation continued to be Cosette. It didn't come as a surprise to hear of Mont's arrest, either.

"Wait, what?" That declaration managed to pull Marius out of his daze for at least a moment. "Did I miss something? I thought you hated her."

"I mean, she's not my favorite person. I saw her walking to school and I decided to be a half decent person. No biggie." Courf shrugged, though it really was a biggie and he'd been internally congratulating himself on his maturity all morning. 

"Well, good. She really isn't that bad if you get to know her. Cosette loves her, so—"

"So she must be fucking human perfection?" Courf finished with biting sarcasm, rolling his eyes not so subtly.

"Well, I think Cosette is a great judge of character. We watch Murder, She Wrote with her mother and Mr. Fauchelevent and Cosette can always tell who's up to no good." Marius smiled absentmindedly, once again day dreaming about his girlfriend.

"Jesus..." Courf muttered, speeding up so as to enter Fauchelevent's classroom without Marius by his side going on about his beloved Cosette.

He raised his eyebrow as he saw Éponine smiling and waving goodbye to her scrawny little sister before entering the classroom. Now that was a new one. At their school, a small school, everybody knew everybody's business (or at least assumed they did), and it was pretty much common knowledge that the Thénardier sisters were barely sisters at all. While Éponine was widely disliked, feared and pitied, Azelma was only pitied. Most people's opinions of Azelma Thénardier were vaguely favorable. She was the girl who took on the brunt of the work in class projects, which earned her some likable points. Generally, she was a nobody.

"I hear your boyfriend got arrested." Courf lingered in the doorway as Éponine approached, an eyebrow raised. 

"So what?" Éponine shrugged nonchalantly. Mont's record wasn't of too much concern to her. She was, and always had been perfectly content to strive for the bare minimum and merely get by. Mont was the one who was on this bettering-himself kick. While she was concerned for him, it also wasn't the end of the world— especially not from her perspective.

"What'd he do? Kill someone?" Courf smirked insolently, sauntering into the classroom beside Éponine. Marius raised an eyebrow at their sudden comradeship.

"No, though that would've been kind of cool, huh?" Éponine chuckled in return, making her way to her desk with Courfeyrac trailing behind. He wanted to get the whole story, of course, but he also found himself intrigued by her. The ardent hatred he had once felt towards her had melted into something of a frightened, sudden interest. And with Marius acting like an ass, he needed someone to talk to.

"Seriously, what'd he do?" He stood behind her as she stopped at her desk next to Marius and turned to face him.

"He assaulted someone." Éponine smirked, eyeing Courfeyrac curiously. His sudden desire to speak to her struck her as sketchy, as if he'd been put up to it, but she bit the line anyways.

"No shit," Courf nodded approvingly. He'd never seen much violence outside of Grand Theft Auto, though he deemed himself as somewhat of a violent video game expert.

"But have you seen Javert lately?" Éponine quirked an eyebrow saucily, filled with an odd pride for her boyfriend. Finally, he stuck it to that asshole.

"What? Oh, yeah...I didn't even know he played basketball," Courf chuckled, pointedly ignoring Marius's brief gaze on him. It only took a second for Marius's glance to fall back onto his blushing girlfriend across the room. 

"What? Basketball?" Éponine asked incredulously.

"Yeah. Combeferre said that Enjolras asked him about his nasty bruise, and he said he got a basketball to the face." Courf laughed. "Figures. Javert's an idiot."

"Basketball accident, my ass," Éponine snorted loudly, "Mont pounded him." 

"Wait, shit. Really?" Courf's eyes went wide. 

"Yep. That's why he got arrested." 

"No shit. I have a newfound respect for Montparnasse." 

"And your respect means everything." Éponine stated dryly, maintaining eye contact with squinted, suspicious eyes. 

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm a pretty popular guy, if you haven't noticed." Courf grinned his cheeky grin, crossing his arms with an air of nonchalance.

"I haven't." Éponine bit back, pursing her lips.

"Just my talking to you is giving you serious street cred," Courf smirked.

"You're a generous soul. Now leave me alone. I'm satisfied with the street cred I've got." Éponine turned abruptly and plopped down in her seat, leaving Courf to amble back to his.

\-------------

Just as Éponine plopped down on the couch, cigarette lit and drink in hand, her phone went off. Of course, this had been the call she was expecting all day. Mont must've been detained finally, and she was his one chosen call. How romantic.

"Éponine? Thank fucking Christ you picked up." Mont sighed with an air of relief. He wasn't wrong to be worried about her reliability. It really was a wonder she hadn't misplaced her phone or passed out on the couch.

If she was being honest, Mont's absence had taken its toll on her already. She hated the fact that she had started to depend on him, but it was becoming apparently clear as she stewed in loneliness. It felt pathetic badger her little sister just to get a moment of human contact. But, of course, she intended to play it cool over the phone and give absolutely no indication of her struggling.

"Yeah. Hey, Mont. Thanks for leaving me to my own devices this morning," She let out a short, low laugh, taking a puff from what was probably her tenth cigarette of the day so far, "What's up?"

"Very funny," He bit out, understandably not in the best of moods, "Are you going to fucking get off your ass and help me?"

"Jesus Christ. Chill." She threw her head back nonchalantly, as if trying to fool herself into thinking she was relaxed.

"Yeah, don't get cute with me, Ép. I'm so not in the fucking mood." Mont's tone was ice cold. Éponine recognized it and wouldn't admit even to herself that it chilled her to the bone.

"Couldn't if I tried. What's it you want?" She let out yet another shaky laugh.

"I want you to bail me out. Bail's going to be five hundred bucks. You know where to find it. I'm at the station on Main Street. Bust ass, Ép. It smells like piss in here and my hair looks like absolute shit."

Before Éponine could squeeze in another snarky remark, Mont hung up.

\------------------

"When's your court date?" Éponine asked flatly as Mont followed her into the apartment.

"I don't know. Thursday?" Mont shrugged, tone still cold. He avoided her touch and any eye contact.

Éponine watched him intently as he shrugged his coat off sluggishly and sidled up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek quickly, adding an ass grab for good measure.

Mont was initially unresponsive, letting her linger for a few moments before pushing her off roughly. 

She furrowed her eyebrows, hurt splaying out across her face. Remembering the altercation of the night before, she did not give him a piece of her mind. Instead, she rummaged around in the liquor cabinet, picked her poison and locked herself in the bathroom. She willed the walls to somehow become soundproof so as to muffle the sound of her sobs. She didn't need Mont knowing how pathetic she was.

After taking an hour to brood, Mont reluctantly trudged over to the bathroom door and knocked once.

Audibly sniffling, Éponine stood up and started to splash water on her tearstained face. "Yeah?"

"Come out, Éponine. We've gotta talk."

Éponine groaned, but was secretly looking forward to what she was sure had to be Mont's apology for everything.

Once they were both seated on the couch, Mont turned to face her, a pained expression on his chiseled face.

"Éponine..."

She tilted her head expectantly.

"I can't believe I got myself into this mess. I've turned into a fucking idiot. I'm trying to build a future for myself, trying to— to give myself a shot. This whole thing could ruin it. For good."

Éponine feigned concern, though honestly, all she needed was for him to stay around. His career and his future were of very little concern to her. "I'm sorry. It'll be okay, right?"

"What, now I have to comfort you, too?" Mont spat, running a hand through his hair.

"I never said that. I'm trying to be nice." Éponine's lips became a thin line and she crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"That's a first."

"What's this? Did you sit me down here just to lash out at me for no reason?" Éponine furrowed her eyebrows, somehow crossing her arms even more tightly.

"I'm sorry, Éponine." He said, sincerity and pain in his voice. The heaviness of his apology seemed to go way beyond what was needed to apologize for lashing out at her. Was her big apology finally coming? It was about time, she thought.

"It's, uh, it's fine. I don't really care. Are we good?" Éponine sighed a breath of relief, immensely glad that everything could be okay again soon. She had missed him so much in just one day.

"Éponine. I'm sorry because I'm leaving." Mont spoke slowly, involuntary tears starting to pour from his eyes. "I just...I feel like being with you is turning me into someone I don't like. I've gone soft...and, and...this is just no way for me to create a future for myself. I'll always be in love with you but...I need to be on my own, I think. I can't have any distractions. This whole Javert thing— it makes some shit become pretty clear." Mont's lips quivered, though he willed his face to remain expressionless. This didn't need to get any harder than it already was. His heart ached so badly that he was physically pained. But this time, he decided, he needed to think with his head instead of his heart. He couldn't be a deadbeat forever. He just couldn't. 

Éponine's face dropped. In all of his numerous years of watching Éponine's heart break over and over again, Mont had never seen her looking like this. Her mouth hung open and tears had already begun to slip down her sunken cheeks. She forced her mouth shut, unable to keep it from quivering. 

"Fine. Go. Don't do me any favors." She choked out finally, voice thick. Despite his attempts, she refused to look into his eyes. It already hurt as it was. She didn't need to be reminded why she fell in love with him. 

"It's better for you, too. You need to find a nice guy, Éponine. You can't end up with a deadbeat like me. You don't want to end up with someone like your dad. You...you deserve so much better. I fucking swear, Éponine, you deserve the world." Mont reached for her hand but she turned her entire body away from him.

"Save me the speech," Éponine spoke through her tears, voice rough and breaking on nearly every word, "clearly you don't give a shit about me, right?" 

"Éponine, please—"

"I trusted you! I didn't think you'd let me down. I loved you, Montparnasse. I loved you, and I never fucking thought I could but I did. I loved you so fucking much and you're the one who hurt me the most." Éponine screamed, standing abruptly and pacing around the room feverishly. 

Mont didn't know what to say to that. It was true. Éponine had faced her fair share of heartbreaks and betrayals, but she had finally let him in and allowed him to hurt her. He couldn't talk himself out of the guilt he felt, he could only accept his wrongdoings. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's selfish, I know. But I have to be selfish— we all do. It's the only way kids like us can get by." 

"Don't even," Éponine spat out, stopping in her tracks with her back facing him, "you did not have to do this." 

"Ép, I just—"

"Get out. Quit acting like you give a shit how I feel. If you don't want me, I don't want you. Fuck off." 

Mont nodded, slowly picking himself up and heading towards the bedroom to gather his things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Stay tuned!!!


End file.
